A Lady's Vengeance
by Carrot Top
Summary: -NOW COMPLETE!- Breck had her entire family ripped away from her by Cerdic, the leader of the rogue Saxon army. And she vowed that she would avenge their deaths, even if it meant sacrificing her own life to do so. But when her childhood friend Arthur offers her his help, she finds herself faced with an entirely new obstacle. Tristan/OC/Gawain. T just in case!
1. Prologue

**A/N: And here we go again, starting yet another story.**

**I know I'm super late on a King Arthur story, but this has been in my mind for a long time now and I thought I'd see what kind of response I'd get if I decided to go for it and just write it. I will try to be as historically accurate as I can, so hang in there!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing King Arthur related...unfortunately.**

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PROLOGUE

"_We must leave." Kenrick said with a sigh, running his large hand across her cheek. _

_Breck, who was only six, frowned and shook her head up at her father. "Again?" She asked in exasperation. "But why? Why must we leave?" _

_Kenrick frowned for a moment before kneeling down in front of her with a sympathetic look on his aged features. To any other person, the man would look incredibly intimidating – he was a large man, purely muscle and brawn with red hair that fell down to the middle of his back in wild tangles and a long beard that reached the top of his sternum. There was an obvious, hard-earned wisdom in his dark eyes, but the most dominant of his features was a long red scar that stretched from his right eyebrow all the way down the side of his face, past his throat, and then disappeared into his tunic._

"_Remember what I said when we arrived?" He asked gently, taking her much smaller hands in his large, calloused ones. _

"_You said we would not linger for long." She answered after a moment of hesitation. _

"_Aye." He confirmed with a nod. "We have been offered a safe escort to Ireland and we must take it, otherwise we may never be presented with the opportunity again." _

"_Ireland? Where mother was from?" Kenrick nodded and Breck watched him before frowning down at her hands. "But I have friends. I wish not to leave. Arthur will be disappointed." She said as though her reasoning would change Kenrick's mind. _

"_Arthur will understand." Kenrick said, tilting her chin up with his index finger. "He has his own duties that he will have to tend to soon enough." He explained. Breck stared at him, unwilling to agree to his statements. Kenrick smirked at her stubbornness and then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Say your goodbyes, my dear. We will leave in two days time." _

* * *

_The words of her father echoed in her head as she sat with her feet dangling in the sizeable lake near one of the entrances to the Wall. She gazed at her own reflection in the water, her mind riddled with sadness at having to leave yet another home and another friend behind, before she gazed up to the wall. She'd been avoiding Arthur since her conversation with her father the previous night, even though she knew she shouldn't be. The thought of leaving him behind simply hurt too much to face him at the moment._

_She and her father had been living in Briton for only six months. It had been a miracle that Uther, Arthur's father and current Lord over the lands, had even allowed them to take up temporary residence behind the protective borders of the Wall. It was widely known that Kenrick had fought alongside Cerdic the Saxon for nearly thirteen years until he had fled for safety with Breck almost a year ago following the death of her mother. Breck, having been raised around Saxons since she was born and being half-Saxon herself, had never thought badly on Cerdic or his men. Kenrick had explained to her one time that when he found Cerdic, they had both simply been men trying to fight for their freedom and brought together by a common enemy. They had been friends, they wanted the same things, and they had worked well together for many years._

_Yet over time, Cerdic had become greedy and tyrannical and his biggest quest became to destroy anyone who was not Saxon and take over Europe. Kenrick had gone along with it, though he had begun to feel disgruntled and unhappy with the new route Cerdic had taken. When their fighting took them to Ireland, Kenrick had met Breck's mother, Emer, a beautiful Celtic woman. He had made sure she was spared, fallen in love with her, and then married her. Cerdic had been open with his negativity towards the match from the beginning, having believed that mating outside of the Saxon bloodline was an abomination, and when Breck had been born it had only caused further tension between them two. _

_When Emer became pregnant again, Kenrick had decided it was time to remove his growing family from the unstable lifestyle the Saxons led. Once Cerdic had learned of what Kenrick intended to do, he had snapped. He ordered an ambush on the family, which resulted in the death of Emer and her unborn child. Kenrick and Breck had barely survived it and had been on the run until the Saxon warrior finally got them to Hadrian's Wall and earned them their protection by presenting a flag of truce and then agreeing to aid Uther in trying taking down Cerdic and the Saxon army. _

"_I have been searching all over for you." _

_Breck looked up at the new voice in surprise, having been lost deep in her thoughts, and then offered a small smile when she recognized the face of her friend Arthur. He was a good six years older then her, but he had been a loyal friend ever since she had arrived in Briton. The skinny twelve year old made his way over and then plopped down next to her, studying her curiously. _

"_The rumors I hear…they are true?" He asked. _

_Breck nodded, tugging at one of her red curls. "We leave tomorrow." She confirmed. Then she frowned over at him. "I do not wish to." _

_Arthur moved closer and dropped an arm around her shoulders. He'd always been protective of her, appointing himself the title of her 'older brother', and now he gazed at her with both sympathy and sadness. "I do not wish it either." He said. "I had hoped to have you here when the Samartians arrived. I had hoped at least one thing would remain normal." He admitted. _

_Breck smiled over at him and leaned into his side. "You will do well Arthur. You are smart and brave. They will have an exceptional leader." _

_Arthur nodded and then motioned to their surroundings. "This will be mine some day soon." He informed her. "And as long as I rule the lands, you will always be welcome here." _

"_Thank you." Breck said sincerely. _

_Arthur smiled and offered her another nod before they fell into silence, instead deciding to enjoy each other's company while they still could. For neither were positive that they would ever see each other again once the next day was upon them and they had to say their parting words._

* * *

_Fourteen Years Later…_

Breck took a moment to breathe in the familiar humid, foggy air around her with closed eyes. The smell, the plush greenery of the surrounding landscape, the sound of the forest animals – it all brought back so many memories despite the fact that she had only lived here for a short while half a lifetime ago. She opened her eyes again, the dark blue of them reminiscent of her long-dead mother, and smiled to herself when she spotted Hadrian's Wall in the distance.

It had been so long. She knew Arthur still resided there, along with his Sarmatian Knights, and only hoped that he would remember the promise he had made her when they were still children. After all, the journey she had been on was long and tiresome and she wished nothing more then to relax in the protection of her friend, even if for a few days.

Breck leaned forward and patted the neck of Lugh, her trusty steed. The horse bobbed his large head at the affectionate touch, moving closer to her hand, and then tossed his sandy mane. "We are close." She said to him in Gaelic. "Just a bit further now." With a click of her heels into his flanks, she sent him trotting forward. Her body was tired and achy from the long ride from the shore, but the idea of being reunited with Arthur, one of her few true friends, gave her the motivation she needed to move forth.

She reached the Wall by late afternoon, thankful both to have reached her destination and for having avoided any Woad attacks. As she approached, she saw a few of the Wall's occupants straggling near the edge of the forest, obviously replenishing on supplies. The doors were open, which surprised her, but she assumed that it was for the men scouring the forest just then. A group of children had taken advantage of the situation and were currently trying to dare one another into seeing who could stray furthest from the wall. Despite the watchful eyes of the guards, none of them would make it far before running back to the safety of the Wall with mad giggles.

"You there! Stop!" A voice called.

Breck pulled Lugh to a stop and turned her eyes up, gazing at the guard that had addressed her. "I mean no harm." She called to then, showing her hands to prove she had no weapons in them.

"You are a woman?" He asked in surprise, squinting at her.

Breck lowered the hood that she had been wearing and released her long red hair from its confines, revealing to them that she was indeed female. "Aye." She answered. "And I have been travelling a very long road and do not wish to be hassled."

"What business brings you to Hadrian's Wall?" He asked, now looking a bit less stern at seeing it was only a mere woman approaching but slightly surprised bythe firm tone of her voice.

"I come seeking shelter and supplies."

The guard shared a look with his comrade and frowned before looking back down at her. "These are troubled times, miss. Woads run freely on that side of the Wall. They have spies everywhere...how are we to know you can be trusted?"

Breck smiled and put a steadying hand on Lugh's neck as he canted impatiently. "I am no Woad. I am a friend to Artorius Castor, the Lord of these lands. Inform him that Breck of Ireland has arrived – he will surely vouch for me."

The guard straightened up. "A bold statement." He mused. Then he turned around to address someone that she could not see from where she sat perches atop Lugh. "You! Go and inform Lord Arthur there is a Breck of Ireland calling on him. And make haste!" A moment later, she spied a man galloping away quickly through the open doorway. "Come just inside the wall but no further." The guard instructed. "We shall know soon enough if it is the truth you speak."

Breck nodded and clicked her tongue, sending Lugh into a slow trot until they were within the safety of the wall. Immediately, she recognized that she had entered through one of the lesser used gates, as her surroundings were naught but shrubbery, a few stables, and the pond that she remembered swimming and bathing in as a child. She jumped off of Lugh, deciding to feed him while she waited, and then watched as the men that had been in the forest finished their task and made their way quickly back onto the safer side of the Wall. As the doors were closed and securely locked, she let out a sigh of relief. At least she would be safe for the time being, regardless if Arthur remembered her or not.

She must have waited for nearly an hour before the rider that had left returned. She straightened up as he approached and laid a hand on Lugh's neck, trying to gauge if his expression was a good one or bad. Once he was close enough, he glanced at her before looking up to the guards. "She is granted entrance. Arthur wishes to have council with her."

Relief flooded her and she smirked up at the guards before hopping back up onto Lugh.

"Escort her to him." The guard instructed.

"That will not be necessary." Breck said dismissively. "I have lived here before."

Then she sent Lugh forward and left the men in her dust, intent on finding Arthur.

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**Review. Please? Pretty please?**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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The town was bustling with people by the time she reached the main square. Children were playing while their mothers chased after them, men were going about their daily duties, and she even spotted a few questionable women sauntering towards what appeared to be the town tavern. It was much like she remembered and she immediately felt nostalgic, recalling times when she and her father had walked these very streets together. As she hopped off of Lugh, she noticed that many of the people around her were staring with interest, obviously surprised by the newcomer's sudden appearance. She wasn't exactly sure where to leave Lugh, uncomfortable with tying him up amongst so many strangers, but was saved from having to fret any further when a deep voice sounded behind her.

"My old friend. It has been _far _too long."

Breck turned towards the voice and eyed the man who had spoken. Though he was older now, with stubble on his face and muscles that hadn't previously been there, she recognized the green eyes staring at her with barely concealed joy. At once, a smile broke out over her face and she stepped forward until she could hug him tightly.

"Arthur Castus." She said in greeting as he squeezed her in a tight hug. "You are a most welcome sight."

"I almost did not believe my ears when I was told you were calling on me." He admitted. Arthur pulled away from the hug after that but kept his hands on her shoulders, taking in her appearance before he grinned at her. "My word." He said in astonishment. "The last I saw of you, you were a mere runt of a girl. Now look at you. You have blossomed into a beautiful young woman." He said with a happy expression.

Breck laughed and patted his cheek. "Always with the flattery." She teased. "The last _I _saw of _you,_ you were naught but a scrawny child of twelve who loved to sling pig slop into my hair. Now you are sporting the beginnings of facial hair." He rubbed his jaw and nodded, chuckling at her observations. "Tell me, where is the boy I left?"

"Grown, albeit reluctantly so if I am to be truthful." He answered. His eyes turned to Lugh and he released her to pat his nose, an appreciative look on his face. "A fine beast. What is his name?"

"Lugh." She answered proudly. "He has seen me through many troubled times." Then she looked around, searching for a place for him to stay while she and Arthur spoke. She noticed a few men watching them closely from near the tavern and eyed them for a moment before placing a protective hand on Lugh, not sure if they were sizing up her or her horse. "Where may I keep him?"

Arthur nodded and turned to call for someone at once. She watched as a young boy came running over and smiled at both his enthusiasm and the way he looked at Arthur as though he were a God. "You may keep him in my Knight's stable. He will be taken good care of, I assure you." He promised her before holding out his hand for the reigns.

Breck nodded, kissed Lugh's nose, and then handed the reigns to Arthur. He gave the young boy his instructions while Breck snatched her bag off of Lugh's back and then she watched as he was led away from her until Arthur placed a hand on her back to lead her away. The men she'd spotted a few moments ago were looking with even more interest now upon her interaction with their Lord but she simply ignored them as Arthur led her through the square towards his quarters.

"It is Breck of Ireland now?" He questioned.

"Aye." She answered with a nod. "I do not curse my Saxon blood, but do not necessarily wish to claim my homeland either. Besides, it is not a complete falsity."

Arthur nodded his understand. "And how are you faring, old friend?" Arthur asked as he opened a door for her, motioning her through. "What have you been doing? I wish to know everything I have missed these fourteen years." He urged as they began winding through the dark hallways of the building.

"I am well." She answered with a smile. Servants gazed at them as they made their way past through the elegantly designed hallway and Breck had to wonder at how strange it was that Arthur was in charge of so much now. "I have been travelling for very long and have gone very far, yet once I saw how close my journey had brought me to Hadrian's Wall I thought it would be a wise choice to stop for shelter." She explained. "And I also wanted to see my old friend. I must admit, I was worried you would have no recollection of me since we have been parted for so many years. I am glad that you have not forgotten me."

"How could I?" He asked, smiling at her fondly. "One does not forget someone they consider family." Then he gave her a serious look. "And do not believe for one moment I have forgotten my promise to you – you are always welcome here and are free to stay as long as you wish."

Breck grinned and then watched as he opened another door, leading her through. The table inside was large and round, just as the rumors had depicted, and she smiled at the sight. There were a few goblets of wine lingering and she had the impression he had been visiting with someone before her abrupt arrival. "Have I interrupted something with my arrival?" She asked as they stepped into the room.

"Do not be silly." Arthur said, waving off her doubts. "I was merely holding council with a few of my knights. Have no fear, I see them daily. I can take time away from my men to reunite with an old friend." He said before taking a seat.

He motioned for her to take the seat next to him and she did so as he instructed a servant to bring them food and wine. Breck relaxed into the seat and smiled over at him, patting his hand and suddenly wishing that she and her father had never had to leave Briton and that she might have been able to watch her friend grow into the man he was now. "Lord Arthur…" She said slowly, trying the name out on her tongue, before accepting the wine being handed to her. "You appear to be doing well. I am proud."

"Many thanks." Arthur said, clinking his goblet against hers. "It is quite taxing sometimes, leading this life, but I have good men at my side." He explained before taking a long drink. "Tell me, have you taken a husband?" He asked curiously.

Breck scoffed and shook her head. "Positively not." She answered with a laugh. "And with no intentions of doing any such thing this present moment." She reaffirmed. "And you?"

"Well, seeing as I do not fancy men…" He trailed off in a teasing manner.

Breck laughed again and slapped his shoulder. "You understood what I meant."

Arthur laughed at her expense and then shook his head. "No. No wife for me yet." He answered.

"Are the women here mad?" She asked incredulously, surprised to hear that he was unmarried.

"That is still to be determined." He said with an amused expression before changing the subject. "How is your father?" He asked.

Breck took a gulp of wine and then smiled sadly, picking at her food for a moment while she turned her eyes away from his searching gaze. "My father is no longer on this Earth." She informed him. "Not for nearly seven years now." She added before taking a large bite of bread.

"I did not know. You have my sympathies." Arthur said soberly, a frown gracing his handsome features. "I too have lost my father." He revealed. She squeezed his hand again and offered him an understanding smile. "How did Kenrick pass?"

"He died in battle." She said slowly, remembering back to when she had been thirteen and watched her father ride into battle for the last time. She had begged him not to go but he had insisted, claiming that he was the only one who could lead the town soldiers against them effectively. Breck hadn't known then, but it would be the last time she would ever see him alive. "He was slain by the hand of Cerdic."

"Cerdic?" Arthur asked in surprise. "The Saxon?"

"Aye." She confirmed. "What of your father? How did he pass?"

"Battle as well." Arthur said. "But I wish to hear more of Cerdic. How is it Kenrick came to face him again?"

"He was hunting us." She explained. "We lived happily in Ireland for seven years with no troubles, so we had believed he had forgotten us – how wrong we were. It appeared his only mission at the time was to find my father and kill him. It took him a long while to track us, but when he did…" She trailed off before taking another long drink of her wine. Arthur was staring intently at her, waiting for her to continue. "I have mostly been alone since I was thirteen."

"Then where have you been? How did you make your way here again?" Arthur asked her curiously.

"My father and I converted to Christianity shortly upon arriving in Ireland and he grew very close to a priest by the name of Padraig. When he passed, I and did not feel safe in our village left our home. I travelled south to live under his care until I was sixteen. Then…" She glanced up at Arthur and braced herself, knowing her friend wouldn't be pleased to hear what she had to say next. "Well, then I went searching for Cerdic. I have been tracking his army for some time now."

Arthur blanched at her words and nearly choked on his wine. "You _what_?" He asked indignantly. "You have been tracking the Saxon army? _Alone_?"

"Arthur, really, it is of no consequence – " She started to say.

"No consequence?" He cut in. "Are you mad? Do you know what they would do to you should they capture you? You could have been tortured, or raped, or killed – or all three!" He chastised before he leaned back and placed a hand over his eyes with a heavy sigh. It was obvious that her plans deeply disturbed him. "Speak the truth – tell me you are not tracking Cerdic with a notion of vengeance."

Breck pursed her lips and watched him watched him warily. "Do you wish me to speak the truth? Or do you wish me to say it is not because of vengeance?"

"My God, Breck." Arthur said in exasperation. "You are a woman. You cannot take on an entire army."

"I did not _say _I was attempting to defeat the entire army – only Cerdic, which has proven to be increasingly difficult." She corrected him, taking another long gulp of wine. "And what does my being a woman have anything to do with this?" She added with a note of indignation.

Breck had expected that Arthur wouldn't take the news of her mission very lightly, but nothing he could say would change her mind. When Kenrick's body had been wheeled back their home by his fellow soldiers, Breck had felt her entire world cave down around her. Her father had been all that she had left of her family and Cerdic had finally succeeded in taking him away from her. She had made an oath, then and there, that Cerdic would pay for the crimes he'd committed against her. Breck had lost her entire family because of his greed and insanity – she wanted to make damn sure that nothing like that happened to anyone else.

"I meant no offense." Arthur said slowly. "However, Kenrick sacrificed everything to keep you alive, including his own life. I may not have known him the way you did, but I doubt he would have wanted you to put yourself in harm's way. What do you think he would he make of this?"

"He would understand." She said firmly. "He wanted vengeance as much as I. He lost his wife and his unborn child to a man he trusted above all others – that deep of a betrayal is not something to take lightly, Arthur. If I had not survived the ambush, you know as well as I that he would have wanted to see Cerdic brought to justice."

"But he would _never _have wanted you to carry out the deed." Arthur shot back at her. "And especially not on your own."

Breck sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to remind herself that snapping at her friend wouldn't be the right thing to do. "I understand you are only concerned, but I did not come all this way to be on the receiving end of a lecture."

"You thought I would be happy to hear of your plans then?" Arthur asked with a quirked eyebrow. "That you tracking the Saxon army or gallivanting across the country on your own would cause me joy? Honestly, Breck." He said as though he were chastising a seven year old. "How did I treat you when we were children?" He asked her knowingly.

Breck hesitated to answer and then picked at the wood of the table, avoiding his piercing gaze. "You made yourself my protector." She admitted reluctantly.

"Precisely." Arthur said with a nod. "Just because we have been separated all these years that does not mean anything has changed. You are my friend, practically my sister – I do not wish to see you acting foolishly and endangering yourself. I wish to keep you safe."

"And I admire you for it." Breck said, meeting his eyes again and reaching for his hand. "But many things have changed, Arthur. I am not the same girl I was when I went to Ireland. I can look after myself." She tried to convince him. It didn't appear to be working because he was looking at her with a completely disbelieving look. With a heave, she continued speaking. "Arthur, I did not come to cause you trouble, I swear it."

"I am not so sure." Arthur grumbled. "It seems I am always the one saving your hide from precarious situations." Breck cracked a smile at that and released his hand, reaching for the wine to refresh their goblets. "I do not wish to sound encouraging, however, I must ask – is the Saxon army drawing nearer?"

Breck shook her head and sipped her wine, beginning to feel a bit tingly as the effects of the alcohol began to take place. "Not yet. They are not on the island as of this moment." She said, watching as he visibly relaxed.

"That is good news." He said. He studied her for a moment and then took a long gulp of his drink. "How long do you intend to stay?"

"I had only planned for a few days." She told him. "Do you wish me to stay longer?"

"Of course I do." He answered at once. "Truthfully, it would ease my anxiety if you were to stay permanently and not chase after Cerdic and his Saxons." He admitted. "Since I understand that will _not _happen, I ask only that you agree to this one request – extend your stay for at least a month."

Breck knew that if she were to stay for such a long time that she would easily lose the trail of the Saxons, which would negate all of her hard efforts for the past four years and make finding them again equally as difficult. Yet being back at Hadrian's Wall and back with her old friend felt right and…normal. And normalcy was not something she'd had the luxury of feeling since she decided to chase after Cerdic. Arthur's gaze on her just then was hopeful and, just like when they were children, she found it impossible to deny him what he wanted. With a sigh, she shook her head and smirked at him in defeat.

"Alright, Arthur." She finally conceded. "I will stay for at least a month." She agreed.

Arthur looked relieved and grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it. "Thank you." He said sincerely.

The next moment he called over the servant and informed him to send off for someone by a name that she did not recognize. It amazed her that even though they had been separated for so long that time had not changed their bond – she still trusted him as she did when she was a child and he still was acting the role of an overbearingly protective older brother. The notion that she at least still had someone that cared for her was a comfort, but now she knew that her plans for Cerdic might have hit a bump in the road. Arthur would be none to pleased whenever it came time for her to leave and search for Cerdic again and she had a feeling that once she settled in at Hadrian's Wall, it would be even harder to leave then it was the first time. Back in Ireland, Father Padraig had been the one she turned to for support. Arthur was different, though – they had a history. They had been each other's constant companions before they had turned into the adults they were today and she wasn't so sure that was a relationship she was willing to toss to the side.

"Breck?" Arthur asked.

She realized she'd been lost in her thoughts and snapped out of it, smiling at him. "Forgive me. The wine must be affecting me."

Arthur nodded with a small smile. "I sent for Vanora, she is the woman of one of my knights. She will show you where your quarters will be and provide you with some more suitable clothing."

Breck quirked an eyebrow and glanced down at her attire, which consisted of men's trousers, a tunic, a travelling vest, and a pair of leather boots. "And what, pray tell, is so offensive about my current dress?" She asked him in mock offense.

"Nothing…if you wish to be mistaken for a man." He shot at her, making her glare at him. He chuckled to himself for a moment before sobering up. "You will need coin; what shall you do for work?"

"I had not considered it, seeing as I had no planned to stay for long originally." She said honestly.

"And what _have _you been doing for coin?" Arthur questioned, looking as though he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Nothing of _those _likes." She scolded with a scowl and a firm slap to his shoulder, making him snicker to himself. "Usually just odd jobs; training children in fighting, selling trinkets, working in stables…that sort." She said. "Being raised for most of your life by men means you do not usually possess the skills of most other women."

"Ah, well, Jols always could use help at the stables and extra instructors for the men of the town are always welcome." Arthur said with a nod. "Would you be willing?"

"Sure." She agreed. "Though I do not see how a man would be pleased with being trained to fight by a woman."

"Perhaps, they shall have to mind themselves and accept it." Arthur shot at her before grinning and clinking his glass against hers again. "I am glad to have you back." He said with a note of fondness in his voice and gaze.

"I am glad to _be _back."

* * *

Vanora, the woman Arthur had sent for, arrived some twenty minutes after Arthur had sent for her and by that time Breck and her old friend were well on their way to inebriation. They had dubbed the night one for celebration and were in the middle of reminiscing over a particularly hilarious memory (and indulging in even more wine) when she entered, the two of them doubled over in laughter and not noticing her at first.

"Vanora!" Arthur suddenly said, standing quickly but looking a bit unstable on his feet. "I thank you for coming so quickly." He said respectfully. Judging by the surprised look in Vanora's eyes, Arthur did not usually partake in drinking as much as he and Breck had been. "This is Breck, one of my very dearest friends." He introduced.

Breck stood and met Vanora halfway with an extended hand, shaking the woman's hand once she was close enough. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"You as well." Vanora responded.

"Breck, forgive me, but are you terribly opposed to staying in the same quarters that my knights reside?" Arthur asked with a guilty expression. "You will have your own living area, it is just not the more admirable of places."

"I do not mind, as long as your knights mind themselves." She said with a smile.

Vanora laughed, drawing a quizzical look from Breck, before she blushed a bit. "Forgive me, I just do not see how they will mind themselves around a pretty woman, is all." She explained with a humored look.

Breck grinned and then shot Arthur a playful look. "I like this woman, she even brings flattery."

Arthur laughed and then moved to stand by them. "Vanora, if it is not too much to ask, please provide her with some new clothing for her stay." He instructed, fishing out some money from the pouch at his hip before handing them over to the redheaded lady.

"Yes, my Lord." Vanora conceded.

"Will you join me in the tavern tonight?' Arthur asked Breck. "So that we may continue our celebration."

"Of course." She said with a nod. "Will we be joined by the infamous Sarmatian knights?"

"Surely." Arthur answered. "Now leave, you two, so that I may finish some business before you have me intoxicated beyond the point of coherency." He teased.

Vanora smiled and then motioned towards the door. "Shall we?" She asked before leading Breck towards where she would be staying for the time being.

**Review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I owned anything related to King Arthur, you'd better believe I'd be taking advantage of it. But I don't…so I'm not. Sadly. **

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Once she had washed up and cleaned her hair in the small basin Vanora had given her, Breck was feeling less grimy, less inebriated, and in much better condition to meet the town's inhabitants. Her new clothes, however, were an entirely different story.

It had been so long since Breck had been in a dress that by the time she squeezed into the one Vanora had laid out for her, she found herself contemplating not even leaving the quaint room that she would be inhabiting for the next month. She eyed herself unsurely in a small, dusty mirror and frowned, feeling highly uncomfortable with both how form-fitting the dress was and how awkward she felt in it. Though the dress was floor length and long-sleeved, the hem at the neck scooped much lower then she was accustomed to and she found herself trying to hide her torso with her long hair, which was only half-working. Would it really be so offensive if she were to discard the offending garment for her usual attire? Breck didn't think so and was just starting to undo the buttons when a firm knock sounded on her door, making her pause.

"Breck?" Arthur asked from the other side of the door. "Are you decent?"

Judging by the amount of cleavage the dress revealed, she wasn't so convinced she was. "I suppose by some standards." She called back with a heave. "You may enter but you may _not _laugh."

Arthur poked his head in first to make sure she truly was dressed then stepped in fully, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed her. "You look as comfortable in a dress as I would." He teased, the corners of his mouth twitching with the threat of a smile.

"It is as I feared." She said with a sigh before waving him away. "Leave so I may change."

"No, no." Arthur protested, now trying to appear serious by smothering his grin with a hand and stepping towards her. "That will not be necessary – your appearance is more then acceptable." He said before tugging at one of her long, red curls. "You look even lovelier when not decorated with dirt and grime." He said, half-mocking and half-serious.

"You are too kind." She shot at him before giving up trying to use her hair as a make-shift shawl and tying back the top half to keep it from falling into her face. Then Breck turned back to the mirror and placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head at her appearance. "I look a boy playing dress up." She grumbled.

"Nonsense – you look a lady preparing for a night of drink and food with friends." He said with a smile.

"She could not have found a less revealing dress?"

Arthur pulled a face at her and shook his head. "You will be stunned by how _overdressed _you will look compared to some of the women who frequent the tavern."

"I cringe thinking of it." She said with a disgusted look.

"You will cringe more seeing it." He assured her before looking around the room. "Are your accommodations suitable enough?"

"Aye." She answered. Arthur hadn't been lying when he said that the room was not very admirable – it was small with a lumpy bed, a small table flanked by two chairs, and one lone truck to store her keepsakes in. It was certainly nothing to boast about, but it would do well enough while she was in Briton. "They will suffice, thank you."

"You are welcome." He answered before offering his arm. "Shall we?"

"One moment." She said, raising a hand to him before walking to the table, where most of her weapons were laid out. She plucked up her trusty dagger, which she had made with her father some ten years ago, and then leaned down to shove it into her boot. The look on Arthur's face when she turned to face him again made her cross her arms. "Yes?" She questioned defensively.

"You really believe that to be necessary?" He asked with amusement. "Tonight you dine with some of the most feared men in Briton – any man who attempted to attack you might as well sign his death certificate in his own blood."

"Forgive me, but I have learned it is much better to be prepared then to be caught unawares." Breck reasoned.

Arthur tilted his head and studied her for a moment, a troubled look crossing his face. "You have been through much in your travels." It was more of a statement then a question and it was obviously a statement that left him perturbed.

"Nothing that has left too heinous of a mark on my being." She said reassuringly, walking over and slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. "Someday I shall tell you the grand tale but tonight is not that night, my Lord."

"I am your Lord now?" He teased as he led her from her room and out to the streets. Breck eyed the nearby homes that she assumed belonged to the knights serving under her friend but saw that all of them were dark and seemingly unoccupied for the moment.

"I reside on your lands now, do I not?" She said with a smile.

Arthur smirked at her and pulled her closer to him as they began to make their way through the town. The streets were much quieter now that it was dark, but the tavern just down the way was loud and active with patrons. Those who were not enjoying the drink and food and rowdy atmosphere of the tavern were tucked away in their small homes, which was obvious enough since Breck could spy families relaxing together through their windows as they went past. It was nice being back in her old home and comforting to feel the calm atmosphere around her. She been through many towns in her adventures, but none had compared to this one – in other villages it had not been uncommon to see beggars and criminals around every corner, starving and desperate and ready to do what they had to in order to obtain even a morsel of food. Here, everyone seemed content and happy and she had yet to spy a person who made her feel unsafe. Then again she _was _walking on the arm of Arthur Castus.

Arthur nodded to a group of patrolling soldiers as they went past and then looked down at her. "I have one more subject I wish to address and then I shall put business aside for good this night." He said, stopping some twenty feet from the tavern. She nodded and waited for him to continue speaking. "This matter with Cerdic," He started, "though very troubling to hear of, is not something I will soon dismiss. You and I _will _speak of it again before you take your leave." He promised.

Breck just nodded. "I would have been more surprised if you _had _dismissed it." She admitted honestly. "I will not deny your council."

"Good."

With that, he motioned her forward and then led her into the tavern.

* * *

"Arthur?" A surprised voice said as soon as they entered. "Blimey! Arthur!"

Breck looked to the source of the commotion and spotted a man who was slightly rounded in the region of his belly and sporting a haircut so closely cropped to his scalp that she believed him at first to be bald. He finished his ale and then stepped towards them with a wide grin on his face, slapping Arthur on the back in greeting once he was close enough.

"It is a rare occasion that – " The rest of the sentence was lost as he finally realized that not only was Arthur at the tavern but that he also had a woman on his arm. The man's eyebrows shot up, he took a step back in his surprise, and then looked to Arthur as though he had three heads. "Bloody hell, you are full o' surprises tonight, old friend." He said with a stunned expression still firmly intact.

"Bors, allow me to introduce one of my oldest friends - Breck." Arthur introduced.

"My _lady_." The man named Bors said with a slight bow. "I was previously unaware that Arthur was in possession o' any other friends."

"Yes, well, someone must claim him." Breck teased. "Bors, is it?"

"Aye." He said with a nod.

"One of my faithful knights." Arthur explained.

Breck nodded, looking to Bors with a newfound respect. "A great pleasure, then, to have made your acquaintance."

"And yours." Bors responded before crossing his arms and looking back and forth between the two of them. "What brings the two o' you here on this fine evenin'?"

"A celebration." Breck answered before Arthur could. "To honor the reuniting of old friends."

"A celebration, aye?" He asked, his eyes glinting with excitement so suddenly that Breck had to look at Arthur with trepidation, unsure of what she may have just gotten herself into. "Well then, _my lady_, let the celebration begin!"

Before Arthur could save her, Bors had a hand wrapped around her wrist and was yanking her away from his commanding officer with a look on his face that could only mean trouble. Arthur merely laughed at the helpless look Breck shot at him over her shoulder as she was dragged to the bar and pointed towards a table in the corner, signaling that was where she could find him. She turned her attention back to the large man she was attached to and laughed at his enthusiasm when he quickly demanded the 'two largest pints of ale' that could be mustered up. Breck was pleasantly surprised when she noticed that Vanora was one of the women working behind the bar.

"Vanora, lovely to see you again." She said with a nod towards the woman.

"And you as well. The dress is fitting, I see." Vanora said with a smile.

"Perhaps _too _fitting." Breck said with a wince, making Vanora laugh.

"Enough of this chatter – bring us ale, woman!" Bors demanded, pounding his hand on the table and making Breck jump in surprise.

Vanora immediately sobered up and shot Bors a glare, reaching for two large mugs and beginning to fill them with ale. Breck wasn't sure if she should be shocked by the man's words or not but Vanora didn't seem too phased by his outburst. "Do not mind the ill manners of my lover. He was raised by the pigs."

Breck snickered to herself and accepted her ale happily, handing the other to Bors. "I take offense to that." Bors said good naturedly before making a boorish sound and chugging half of his drink. "Tell me Breck, how came you to know our good leader?"

"My father and I resided here many years ago before we settled in Ireland, my mother's homeland." She said, wincing at the strong taste of the ale as she swallowed her gulp. Though she could normally hold her drink, it had been a long time since she had indulged in something so strong. Bors, on the other hand, was treating his own drink as though it were merely water. "Arthur and I were childhood friends."

At the mention of Arthur, she craned her neck to try and spot him through the crowd. He had joined a group of men, who were greeting him raucously, and she smiled at their excitement of having him in their company. It was obvious even from where she stood that the men greatly respected him but she could not say that she was too surprised by the knowledge. Arthur had proven himself many times over to be a good man and she knew she was not the only person who knew it.

"And you have come to live here again?" He asked, finishing his drink in the next moment and then ordering another.

"For a short while." She answered with a nod, turning her attention back to him.

Once he had a fresh drink in his hands, he clinked his glass against hers. "To new friends, then." He said before motioning to her mug. "Drink up, girl! Prove your worth!" He demanded.

Breck quirked an eyebrow at him. "Prove my worth? Bors, _new friend_, I suggest you not tempt me in to proving how worthy I truly am. You will only end up with a bruised eye or bruised ego." She warned with a smirk before finishing her drink.

Vanora immediately began laughing at her lover's expense while Bors simply smirked and then slapped Breck on the back with a fond look on his face. The movement caused her to lurch forward and almost choke on her drink, but she recovered quickly enough to catch herself on the bar and avoid having ale in her lungs. "I've heard rumors of the fierceness of the Celts." He said with grin. "You and I shall get along wonderfully."

He ordered her another drink, shoved it into her hands, and then dragged her over to the table where Arthur currently was sitting. People watched them curiously as they wove through the crowd, Bors barking at everyone to move out of the way, and she smiled a bit bashfully at the attention she had gathered so far. Arthur certainly hadn't been exaggerating when warning her of the less moral women floating around in the tavern – some women were hanging all over the male patrons with half of their breasts hanging from their dresses, making Breck feel less self-conscious about her own attire. A few men, she noticed, eyed her with a bit of a leer on their faces but made no moves to approach her. Quite suddenly, she was very glad to be in the company of the brash man leading her through the tavern and even happier that she would be staying so close to the knight's quarters.

"I like this one, Arthur." Bors said once they were close enough, patting her roughly on the back again and earning himself a disgruntled look from the younger redhead. "She's got spirit!"

"That she does." Arthur said, raising his glass to Breck with a smirk.

There were three other men with Arthur – the one sitting next to her friend, like Bors, appeared bald at a glance but was simply sporting the same short haircut his companion did. He had a scar over one of his eyes, reminding her very much of her father for a moment, but had a kind aura around him despite his intimidating, large frame. The other two were standing to the side of the table, in the middle of some form of game, and appeared to be a bit younger then the other three – the skinnier of the two had brown, curly hair and boyish look to him that she found endearing.

The other, however, made her do a double-take. He was broad shouldered, tall, and had a mane of golden hair that fell in a mess of waves and tangles to the middle of his back. It was his eyes, however, that really captured her attention. They were of the brightest blue that she had ever seen and currently were studying her with great interest. None of the men before her were particularly unattractive but this one had her turning her eyes away shyly and quickly taking a seat across from Arthur.

"I was just informing the men of our new addition." Arthur said proudly. "And they have agreed to my request to ensure your safety whenever they may spare a moment."

"That is a reassuring notion." Breck responded as Bors took the seat on her right.

"Any friend to Arthur is a friend to us." Said the golden-haired knight.

Arthur nodded his thanks to the man quickly before speaking again. "This is Dagonet," he said, motioning to the man at his side, "and those are Gawain and Galahad." He finished. "Galahad's quarters are directly next to yours."

"Rest easy, my lady." The curly haired one said with an over exaggerated puffing of his chest. "No harm shall find you as long as I am near."

"Many thanks." She said in amusement, raising her glass to him. "I have heard many stories of the great Sarmatian knights, but this is the first I am learning of their chivalry. The knowledge is most welcome and appreciated."

"Galahad the Charming." Gawain teased his friend, drawing her attention for a moment. "He attempts to impress you." He told her with a smirk on his handsome face.

"Lies!" Galahad said, though his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

Breck cracked a smile as they shoved each other good-naturedly and decided to save the man from embarrassment. "And he has succeeded. I hold you in high regard, Galahad the Charming." She said, making him puff out his chest and shoot Gawain a triumphant look. "…for the time being." She added with a wink, making the men chuckle. Then she turned her attention to Arthur. "You do not have as many men as I would have thought." She acknowledged.

Arthur frowned a bit but offered her a slight shrug. "There are two more I have yet to introduce, but there are not nearly as many as when our campaign first began." He explained somberly.

"I am sorry to hear it." She said sincerely.

"It is the way of life, I fear." He said simply.

They shared a knowing look, both far too acquainted with the feeling of loss then they had ever wished to be, until Bors slammed his hand on the table and made the both of them look to him quickly. "Enough talk of loss." He said firmly. "Vanora! Another round! And make it hasty! Tonight, we celebrate our new friend!"

* * *

After three more rounds of the potent alcohol, Breck felt herself beginning to loosen up considerably around the men. She'd had a lengthy conversation with Dagonet once she'd learned that he was a healer, eager to learn about his trade more since she lacked any considerable knowledge in that field and had encountered injuries many times on her journeys that often forced her to seek out healers, consequently depleting the contents of her coin purse. Once he'd taken his leave for the night, claiming he had patients to look after, she'd instead begun discussing different tales from her and Arthur's childhood with the men.

" – and Arthur came dashing from the stable with a _horrified_ expression on his face," she said with a laugh as the men chuckled around her, "and these large, hoof-shaped stains decorating his back. It was as though the poor child had been trampled over – "

"Which I had." Arthur grumbled with a shake of his head. "And still sport the scars to prove it." This caused another round of laughter which even Arthur joined in on.

"Tis an absolute miracle that stable still stands, I assure you." Breck said with a shake of her head, smiling at her friend fondly.

"My father was incredibly angry with me." Arthur said with a shake of his head. "I was forced to clean the stables for a month." He continued before pointing at her. "And you! A bat of your eyes, an innocent smile, and you were free of punishment without so much a question." He exclaimed incredulously. "Always causing trouble yet never taking the blame."

"Because I am far too intelligent to be caught." She reasoned with a wave of her hand.

"Because you were too pretty to be punished." Arthur corrected. "Perhaps it was better that you did not linger here." He mused. "Considering all the trouble we created. Not that you truly had anything to fear. Both my father and yours were not but mere puppets in your world. I have never met someone so capable of manipulating a man into obtaining what she desires."

"There is no surprise there." Gawain chimed in. "Gone be any man's will when faced with a pretty face."

"Here, here!" Galahad and Bors agreed, clinking their glasses together.

Breck blushed at his words, turning her eyes away when he continued to watch her for her reaction. "Who requires more drink?" Bors asked, motioning Vanora over.

"Another round for us all." Gawain said firmly, slapping Arthur on the back from where he sat next to him. "It is a rare night indeed that our fearless leader indulges with us. We shall take full advantage!"

Once Vanora was close enough, Bors pulled her into his lap and began showering her neck with attention. Breck smiled to herself when Vanora barely struggled against him, obviously enjoying the attention, before she pushed herself from the table and walked over to the stool that Galahad and Gawain had previously been using for their game of dagger throwing. "What are the rules of your game, gents?" She asked, touching the many cut marks in the worn wood.

"Ah, a test to see who boasts the best aim." Galahad said, jumping up from the table and rushing over to join her. He was a little wobbly on his feet but didn't appear too bothered by it. "Best of three throws. Whoever comes closest to the center the most," he explained, tapping the center of the stool, "wins."

"As for the one who loses?" She questioned.

"You must finish an entire mug of ale as quickly as you can." He said with a smirk. "Do you wish to try?"

Breck eyed the post and then stuck her hand out to him. "Challenge accepted."

Galahad shook her hand and then waltzed over to the throwing line with a confident strut. She followed after him, mindful even in her inebriated state of Gawain's eyes following her movements. Had she been more sober she might have felt more nervous then she currently did, but thanks to the ale she could easily ignore the unfamiliar feelings the man stirred within her and concentrate on the game she was partaking in.

"You had better not let your confidence get the better of you." Arthur warned as he rested his elbows on the table comfortably to watch them. "Her aim is no matter to joke about."

"I am not afraid." He said with an unaffected look on his face.

"Perhaps you should be." She said before reaching for the dagger in her boot and beginning to toss it around menacingly.

The young knight waved her off and took a gulp from his ale before setting the mug on the table for the time being. Gawain and Bors began cheering Galahad on as he stood to take aim and she watched as his first throw landed a good few inches from the center. He looked unhappy with the throw as Gawain began jibing him for his poor aim, but stepped aside and motioned for Breck to take her turn.

"Show the man how it is done." Arthur encouraged.

"And whose side are you on?" Galahad asked in mock offense.

"Currently? Hers."

Breck shot Galahad a mocking look, took aim, and then chucked her dagger at the post. It landed close to the center and she turned a sweet smile back to Galahad as his friends began to tease and taunt him. He growled in annoyance before collecting their daggers with more roughness then was necessary. It took all of her willpower not to laugh at him when he thrust the handle of her dagger back into her hand, even more so when his next dagger went sailing past the target (to the annoyance of a man who nearly had the dagger imbed itself into his head) and hers landed nearly dead center.

"Galahad, friend, perhaps you should admit defeat and salvage your pride." Gawain suggested with a chuckle. "The woman has you beat already."

Breck couldn't help but flash the handsome Sarmatian a smile as she crossed her arms smugly, amused with the pout forming on Galahad's face. Bors was preoccupied with Vanora again, who was trying hard to get away from him and continue her work, while Arthur had stood to go and greet two men that were on the other side of the tavern. She wondered if they were the two knights she had not yet met but assumed she would find out soon enough since the trio appeared to be making their way back to the table.

Galahad gave her an unsure look and she laughed before patting his shoulder. "I will not think less of you." She promised him.

He heaved a heavy sigh and then bowed to her, though she wasn't sure if it was entirely sincere or not. "Then I admit my defeat."

"I accept your surrender." Breck responded. "But you still must finish a mug of ale." She reminded him.

Galahad grumbled under his breath and began stalking his way to the bar, looking none-to-pleased with the outcome he obviously hadn't been expecting. She watched him for a moment before glancing over at Gawain. He had been studying her with a look of interest but once he saw he had been caught, he simply gave her a charming smile and raised his glass in her direction.

"A good match." He complimented.

"I thank you." She said in return.

He looked like he wanted to say more but held back as Arthur approached with the two men he'd greeted at the bar; one looked older then everyone else by a good ten or so years while the other's eyes blatantly dropped down to the cleavage her dress provided once he was close enough. "Breck, meet Jols and Lancelot." Arthur said first nodding to the older man then to the one openly ogling her. "Jols," he said, "Breck is the woman I was speaking of. She will be assisting you in the stables starting in the morn."

"Ah, yes. You have experience in the stables then?" Jols asked.

"Much." She confirmed. "My father taught me well." She glanced over at Lancelot, whose eyes were scanning her form, and then crossed her arms. Empowered by the alcohol, she decided to call him out on his conspicuous leering. "Pardon, _Lancelot_. You will better find my eyes if you search above my neck."

Everyone but Lancelot laughed loudly but judging by the lopsided grin on his face, he wasn't too affected by her stern words. Instead, he gave her a mischievous smile and wagged his eyebrows at her. "And what pretty eyes to gaze upon."

Arthur looked unamused with his knight's flirting but Breck merely shook her head. "Mind your gaze, Sarmatian, or you will find yourself unable to look upon anything from this day forth."

"Feisty." Lancelot retorted, earning another hard look from his leader.

"What have I missed?" Galahad asked upon returning.

"Lancelot finally has felt the sting of rejection." Gawain updated him.

Galahad looked highly pleased by this. "At last!" He said before beginning to chug his drink for everyone to see, proving he was holding his end of the deal. Gawain and Bors cheered him on and once he was finished, he slammed his empty mug on the table.

The long days of travelling to Hadrian's Wall mixed with the night of drinking began to take its toll on Breck and she suddenly yawned, wanting nothing more then to get a good night of sleep. "Gents," Breck started to say, setting her unfinished drink down, "it has been quite a long few days on my part and the drink has made me quite tired. I fear I must take my leave now." She explained. "Jols, I shall see you in the morn."

He nodded his affirmation and then took her empty spot at the table as Arthur stepped to her side. "I shall escort you back safely."

"And I as well." Galahad said, holding one hand over his mouth and another over his stomach, looking a bit queasy. "The last drink has done me in, I fear."

With that being said, the trio said their goodbyes to those that were to remain in the tavern and then staggered off towards the knight's quarters, their thoughts filled with images of their beds and hopes of a good night of rest. Breck was feeling very encouraged about her stay at Hadrian's Wall after the success of the night. She hadn't been sure how the men would react to her presence, since she had been received so rudely by almost every man she ever had dealings with, but as Galahad waved Arthur away with a promise that she would be seen safely to her room, she smiled over at her new friend with a growing feeling of fondness. In recent years, she had felt that friends were nothing more then liabilities; now she began to wonder how beneficial it would be if, for a change, she had companions she trusted and who would be willing to see that she was protected.

* * *

**Review! Please!**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur!**

* * *

When Breck awoke the next morning, she had half a mind to locate her bow and arrow and turn the birds that were happily tweeting away outside her room into her breakfast for the morning. With a groan and a pounding headache from the mass amount of drinking that took place the previous night, she clamped her pillow over her head and prayed to God to have mercy on her and take away the horrendous hangover she was feeling. The thought if staying in bed all day was incredibly appealing, but her foggy brain remembered that with the new day brought her new responsibilities and Jols would be expecting her in the stables soon.

With much effort, she decided to not to make a bad impression by casting aside her new chores and finally dragged herself out of bed. She pulled a face at the fact that she hadn't even changed out of her dress the previous night and quickly unclothed, throwing the garment to the side and then changing into her usual attire. Once she had washed her face, rinsed her mouth out, and relieved herself, she finally stepped out into the offending morning sunlight with a grimace. Breck had half a mind to check in on Galahad to make sure he had not drowned in his own vomit but decided to leave him to his sleep when she heard the thunderous snoring emitting from his room. Instead, she turned left and headed towards the tavern to buy a bit of breakfast before going to meet Jols.

"Vanora, is this where you reside?" Breck asked sardonically as she walked up to the bar, catching the attention of her new friend. There was a good number of patrons already in the tavern but most appeared to be in as much pain as Breck currently was and were keeping fairly quiet as they tried to recover.

"Sometimes, I believe I do." Vanora responded with a sigh. "What'll it be?"

"Whatever shall bring an end to this wretched pain..." She groaned, placing her face in her hands.

"You appear to be in as bad a state as Bors is." Vanora teased before handing over a bit of bread and spooning some questionable looking stew in a small bowl. Breck eyed the liquid with a wary eye, pushing the lumpy mess around with her spoon, until Vanora pushed it closer. "Eat – you will feel right again."

"Do I wish to learn what this consists of?" She asked skeptically.

"I should think not."

Breck handed over a few coins to pay for the meal and then took a tentative spoonful. She cringed at the bitterness of it. "The price of trying to outmatch the men in their drinking…" She muttered, stuffing bread in her mouth to counteract the taste, before muscling her way through the rest of the stew. Despite how vile it had been going down, she had to admit that she at least felt more human then she had when she had first woken up.

"Better?" Vanora asked knowingly while collecting her now empty bowl.

She nodded and then stood to leave. "Thank you."

Vanora gave her a kind smile and then tilted her head at her. "So…what sort of impression have the men made on you?"

"They appear friendly enough." Breck answered. "Perhaps _too _friendly where Lancelot is concerned, but I doubt he shall be too large a nuisance." She continued before pushing away from the bar. "Forgive me friend, but I cannot linger; Jols is expecting me."

"Of course. We shall see each other later, I am sure."

Breck nodded, said goodbye to the woman, and then headed off to search for the stables. More people began to flood into the streets as she made her way through town to start going about their daily tasks and she was happy to feel less hungover now, sure that the commotion would have only worsened her state. She paused when a group of children went running past, whacking at each other with wooden swords, and took the moment to search around her curiously. Where exactly were the Knight's stables located again? She realized then that she had never really known where they were and frowned, scratching her head as she tried in vain to think of a sensible place it would be located.

"You seem lost."

Breck turned at the new voice and saw Dagonet approaching with a bag thrown over his large shoulder and a kind smile on his face. She had to cran her neck up to make eye contact with him because he was so much taller then her, but she smiled regardless. "I am. Pray tell – where are your stables?"

"I shall lead you." He said, beckoning her to follow him with a crook of his finger.

"Thank you." She said as they fell into step next to one another.

"You are welcome." He responded, looking down at her. "It appears the night's festivities did not affect you too horribly." He observed with an impressed look on his face.

"Unfortunately, I cannot attest to the truth of your statement. Without Vanora's mysterious stew, I fear I would be dead on the street at this moment."

Dagonet chuckled a bit and nodded. "Ah, yes – her infamous remedy." He lamented. "It has saved many a life, I believe." He motioned her to follow him towards a small looking barn and it did not go unnoticed to her that the crowd seemed to part for the large Sarmatian as they crossed the busy walkway. "And the men? They treated you well?"

"Aye." She confirmed. "I suppose being a friend to Arthur Castus provides you certain credibility." She mused.

"Or perhaps, for a change, they recognize a decent woman when they are presented with one." Dagonet said. His statement caught her off guard and she froze, looking up at him in surprise. The man merely smiled, though, and opened up the door that they had just reached. "The stables, my lady." He said before nodding his head in a quick bow and then leaving a speechless Breck at the door.

Breck, though confident she had made a good impression on Arthur's knights, was still surprised to hear the words Dagonet had just said to her. For the majority of her life, the only people she had been able to depend on had been her father, Arthur, or Father Padraig back in Ireland; she had grown so accustomed to being shunned because of her Saxon blood-line and was travelling so often that she had eventually given up on trying to gain companions. Sure, there were various acquaintances scattered here or there that she knew she could contact for information on the Saxon army but even that came with a price. To be accepted so readily by men that she barely knew (and men that were believed to be some of the most barbaric men around, no less) was a surprise to her. A welcome one, but a surprise no less.

"Breck! Good morrow!"

She shook herself from her musings and stepped into the barn with a wave to the man greeting her. Jols was standing near a stall at the end and she took a moment to look around with interest. The stable was much bigger then it had appeared from the outside; the horses stalls were lined on either side of the stable while straight ahead were a few rows of benches that she assumed were used for whenever Arthur called impromptu meetings. Yet something seemed to be missing and she frowned at seeing that all of the stalls were empty and stepped further in as Jols wiped his hands clean on a dirty looking rag.

"Where are the horses?" She asked in confusion.

"Just through there." Jols said, pointing to a gate off to the side. "The stables connect to a field just outside so that the horses may have room to run. And it provides uninterrupted time for cleaning." Breck nodded her understanding. "Now, I shall need help maintaining the steeds and keeping the stalls in good condition." He began to explain. "We also need to keep them properly fed and exercised so that they do not become too lethargic. The trunk in the corner there?" He asked, pointing to a medium sized trunk near the benches. "It holds any tools you may need to carry out your duties. Just see to it they are properly cleaned and stored when you have finished for the day."

"The task should not be too taxing." Breck commented, knowing she'd easily be able to handle the work.

"Oh and Devran shall usually be on hand if you need extra assistance." Jols said with a nod in the direction behind her. Breck glanced over her shoulder and spied the young, skinny boy that had taken Lugh upon first arriving. He blushed at her shyly before disappearing into the stall nearest to him without a word. "Never fear," Jols said in merriment, "he shall be more social once he knows you better."

Breck smiled and then looked to the gate off to the side. She had not seen Lugh since the previous afternoon and she desperately wanted to be reunited with him, having grown so used to having him at her side that being apart from him was not something that she was used to. "May I see my horse before I start my work?"

Jols nodded and she needed no further invitation. With a quick word of thanks, she made her way through the stable and pushed out of the gate, excited to finally see Lugh after being away from him all night. As Jols had said, the connected field outside of the stables was fenced in and just large enough for the small group of horses to either graze without intruding on each other too much or for them to run freely for exercise. She held a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun and smiled when she spotted Lugh running quickly alongside one of the other horses.

"Birds of a feather, the pair of them." Jols said as he came to stand next to her. "They have been inseparable since Lugh came to the stables yesterday."

Breck eyed the horse that Lugh had befriended. The horse was a good looking creature, agile and strong looking. The mostly white coat was decorated with a smattering of grey specks, making it appear to have freckles but she liked the unique coloring. It chased after Lugh playfully before turning and making a quick run in the other direction, successfully coaxing her horse into chasing it into return. "He or she?"

"She." Jols answered. "Azia is her name."

"Who claims her?"

"Tristan."

Breck frowned over at him, not recognizing the name. "Tristan?" She questioned. "I do not know of this man."

"He is Arthur's Sarmatian scout. He was not present in the tavern yester night." Jols explained. "He is of a different sort – quiet, peculiar. Not often does he include himself in the festivities of his fellow knights."

Breck nodded her understanding and then looked back towards where Lugh and Azia had taken a break from their playing to stop and drink water. She whistled out for Lugh, which made his head jerk up, and she grinned as he came galloping to her at a rapid pace. She laughed happily at his exuberance and felt her heart melt when her loyal steed pressed his face into her chest affectionately as soon as he was within reach.

"Hello, handsome friend." She whispered to him in Gaelic. "I have missed you." Breck glanced up when she saw Azia trotting over to her slowly and then kissed Lugh's nose. "Though it appears you have not been lonely."

Jols was eying her strangely at the sound of the foreign language but didn't question her on it much as he instead riffled around in the bag attached to his hip. Breck watched Azia approach cautiously and when she reached her, it was obvious that the horse wasn't sure if she should trust the newcomer or not. Breck moved away from Lugh and held her hand out towards the mare, allowing her to sniff at her hand. She did so slowly, her eyes trained on Breck the entire time. The redheaded woman could tell the moment that Azia accepted her to be a friend and not a foe because the horse just barely nudged her hand and then cantered off to find something to occupy her time since it was obvious that the horse's new friend was now preoccupied with his owner.

"She is not afraid of you." Jols said with an impressed look as he pressed an apple into her hand. "Azia is not usually trusting of strangers, particularly those that are female." Breck shrugged at him to signal she didn't know why Azia had decided to trust her before feeding the apple to Lugh, who gobbled it up happily. "You trained him well." Jols complimented. "The other horses admire him."

"Twas not much training to be done – he is both intelligent and loyal." She said, patting his nose lovingly. "And very brave. I owe my life to him."

* * *

_Breck leaned heavily against one of the trees amongst the foreign, dense forest. It had been weeks since she had last seen the Saxon army and with every day, every hour that passed, she felt her hope dwindle that much more. She didn't know if she was angry because she felt as though she had failed or because she was so overcome with exhaustion and hunger that she could no longer think clearly enough to search them out – either way, she turned her eyes to the sky and tried to hold in the tears that threatened to seep from her eyes. It was cold, so cold that she felt it deep into her bones and this was one of the few times that she wished for a companion. Then maybe she would not have to die alone, as she was sure she was about to._

"_Father…" She croaked. "Guide me. I beg you. Show me the way." _

_She stared at the sky, barely visible through the tops of the trees, and then closed her eyes with a heaving breath. Perhaps this was her fate; despite having survived ambushes, sickness, and long travels, she would die of thirst and starvation here in this dank, freezing forest somewhere in the depths of the land of the Saxons. Cerdic and his men would persevere and some poor girl somewhere in this world would be subjugated to the same horrors she'd been forced to endure at his cruel hand. The thought pained and sickened her, but try as she might, she simply could not force her limbs to carry her another step._

_Her ears perked and her eyes snapped open when she heard the snap of a twig not so far from where she stood. Looking around quickly, Breck tried to find the source of the noise but could not see so much as a hint to what could be stalking her at that moment. Was it a wild animal? A Saxon soldier that had wandered too far from camp? Or had she unknowingly wandered into the lands of a rogue, wild tribe that she had never heard of? Her mind reeled with the possibilities and she straightened up the best she could in her weakened state. _

_Before she knew what was happening, a snarl ripped through the air and then she felt two paws land on her shoulder blades, effectively knocking her down to the ground. She let out a cry of pain as strong teeth dug into the flesh close to her neck and she was sure that if she had not been wearing such thick clothing to protect her from the cold that the bite would have killed her. With as much effort as she could muster, she managed to reach the dagger hidden in her boot and rolled to her back, trapping the animal between her and the ground. Then she shoved the dagger deep into the side of the animal. _

_Its cry of pain was piercing in her right ear and she winced against the sound until it abruptly cut off, signaling to her that the beast was dead. Breck took a moment to catch her breath before she glanced over her shoulder to see that it was a wolf that attacked her and it appeared to be as skinny and starving as she was. The woman knew she could use the meat for food and her stomach even growled at the idea, but as the adrenaline from the attack wore off she found she could barely lift a finger. Instead, feeling rather warm from the blood of the dead animal, she stayed where she lay amongst the snow covered trees and shrubberies._

_So gone was her coherency that she had no idea how long she stayed on top of the dead wolf, her mind thinking back to fond memories of her family, to days spent running around Hadrian's Wall with Arthur Castus, the only friend she'd ever really had, to the good Father Padraig, who had given her shelter and guidance on her path where her deceased father Kenrick could not. So gone was her mind that the approaching steps fell on deaf ears while she lay dying atop the animal that had now grown cold, but when she felt the nudge against her face, she slowly dragged her eyes open. _

_Had she gone mad? Was she hallucinating? Before her stood a sandy brown steed and he was currently nudging her face with an impatience that she did not quite understand. How had the horse found her? Why was it here in the forest? How was it surviving the harsh winter of these lands? _

_Had her father returned to her in the shape of this horse? _

_The horse nudged at her roughly two more times before bowing low to the ground, his front legs stretched out before him. Breck knew what the horse wanted and felt the flicker of hope begin to burn a bit brighter. With much effort, she managed to lock her fingers into its long main and used him as leverage to roll herself to his side. With her last bit of energy, she swung her leg over him, clamped her arms around his neck, and then held on for dear life as he stood with her now stretched across his back. Then the world around her went dark. _

* * *

Breck had awoken in some small, unknown village sporting a nasty bite mark at the juncture of her shoulder and neck and with no recollection of the journey there. She was thankful to at least have more strength then she'd felt in days and that had been in large part because of the elderly woman that had apparently been looking after her while she recovered. The near death experience had given her a new sense of resolve, now more determined then ever to see Cerdic brought to justice since she had been reminded so harshly of her own mortality. The added bonus of her new four legged companion only added to her empowerment and as soon as she had completely healed, she and Lugh had set off on their journey together.

Breck stopped her reminiscing and commanded Lugh to go and continue running. Though the memory was a bit morbid, it was a fond one because it had created such a deep bond between her and the steed. It was a memory, however, that she often kept to herself. She did not reveal it to Jols, simply too unsure of whether or not informing him of both her Saxon blood and her current mission was a smart idea. Someday she might, but for now, she believed that the less people who knew of her complicated history, the better.

* * *

Jols was eventually called away to a meeting with Arthur, leaving Breck and Devran to tend to the horses alone. By the time they had cleaned the stables, groomed the horses, and made sure everything and every animal was orderly and in its place, it was nearing sunset. Her body ached with the work she had not partaken in for many months but it was a welcome soreness; it made her feel as though she had accomplished something and she knew that the payment for her duties would be well worth the effort. Devran kept to himself and scurried out of the door before she could really say anything to him upon finishing their chores and it made Breck shake her head in bemusement before she walked up to Lugh and patted his neck.

"Care to ride, friend?" She asked him in the Gaelic tongue he so liked to hear.

Lugh stomped his hooves excitedly and she smiled reaching only for his reigns and attaching them around his muzzle. Her steed shot a look towards Azia, who was a few stalls away, and she wondered at how taken he was with the mare. She briefly considered taking the mare with them to let her stretch her legs even more, but didn't want to have to groom her again upon returning her to the stable and wasn't so sure that her owner would be pleased to learn that she was receiving the special attention.

"Come, Lugh." She instructed, clicking her tongue at him and leading him out to the streets.

She bypassed the field Lugh had been running in all day and instead headed for the edge of the village, where it opened up to many vast plains of open land. Her stomach was protesting hungrily at its lack of food but Breck ignore it, wanting to get a ride in before the sun went down completely just in case she were to encounter any questionable citizens. With a leap, she deposited herself onto the bare back of her steed and then kicked her heels into his flanks, sending him forward.

This was more like it; the wind in her hair, the rush of Lugh's fast pace, the contentment of being able to simply enjoy a ride atop her faithful steed without worry of being caught by some foreign enemy. So long had she been set on revenge that she had nearly forgotten what it felt like to just be happy and lead a normal existence. She'd only been back at Hadrian's Wall for a day, but already it felt more like home that any other place she had been to.

When her family was still alive and travelling with the Saxons, they had moved from place to the place. In Ireland, she and her father had led a semi-secluded life that had never felt complete – here, she already was making friends, had her own quarters, and now had a job that earned her money. It made Breck feel incredibly conflicted; she had sworn vengeance against Cerdic yet she was settling so easy into this new life. And try as she might, Arthur's words would not stop echoing through her mind. "_I doubt he would have wanted you to put yourself in harm's way_", she thought to herself. And damn that man, but he was correct. Kenrick _wouldn't _have wanted to see her chasing after Cerdic. He would have been happy to see her here with Arthur and taking to her new surroundings.

Breck shook her head and patted Lugh's neck as he took a break from their long run to drink some water from the pond she had loved as a child. She let out a deep breath, looking up to the setting sun, and pushing away all of her conflicting thoughts as she relaxed amongst the calming surroundings. The day would come where she would have to decide if she wanted to continue with her previous mission or if she would remain here at the Wall, but today was not that day. For now she would simply _be _and see what came from it.

"What say you, Lugh?" She asked him, stroking his mane. He remained intent on his water, ignoring her, and she scoffed at him playfully. "Only concerned with your drink…typical man."

His head lifted sharply in the next moment and she frowned at the sudden change in his demeanor, searching around for what might have caught his attention. She saw no immediate cause for his sudden alertness but it made her feel uneasy regardless. With a click of her tongue, she turned him to lead him back towards the village. The feeling of being watched made the hair on the back of her neck prickle with awareness and she urged her horse forward at a faster pace, acutely aware that she was alone in the open field and highly uncomfortable with the knowledge of it. Though Lugh's alertness seemed more curious rather then frightened, she took no chances and led him back to the stables before she would be caught stranded somewhere in the approaching night time.

Once he was back in his stall, she patted his nose and fed him another carrot. "Good night, friend. I shall see you on the morrow." She promised in her mother's native tongue before kissing his nose.

She turned to leave but paused with a frown when she noticed that Azia, the mare of the mysterious knight she had yet to meet, was no longer in her stable and that the saddle Breck had tended to and hung on the horse's stall was also no longer in its place.

* * *

**A/N: Many thanks to you wonderful reviewers! It makes me very happy whenever I get an alert about someone favoriting/alerting/reviewing the story and I love that you're enjoying the story so far! Stay with me, we've got a fun road ahead of us!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck had stopped briefly in the tavern for dinner after leaving Lugh in the stables but didn't linger long, so tired from the day of work that she could barely even keep her eyes open while she ate. Galahad and Gawain had appeared on either side of her at one point, begging her to join them, but she had refused them as gently as possible. After they had admitted defeat at not getting her company for the night, they returned to their table to let her be. She watched them go from her spot at the bar, keeping an eye out for the sixth Sarmatian that she had yet to see, and frowned when she did not find any unfamiliar faces amongst her new friends.

Breck pieced together the facts and came to the conclusion that it was a good possibility the scout named Tristan might have been following her. She supposed that it made sense if he _had_ been watching her, since she was a newcomer amongst the knights and in close proximity with his commanding officer, but the thought was also a bit unnerving. She'd always prided herself on her keen sense of awareness; if someone had been able to follow her without her realizing it then just _how _long had they been following her for? And why?

When Breck returned to the stables the next morning, Azia was still missing but she could spy the outline of the horse's large body within the hay so she assumed that she had been returned at some point in the night but then taken out again that morning. Jols was nowhere in sight, Devran hadn't shown up yet, and Breck wasn't entirely sure what would be expected of her since they had done so much work the previous day. She crossed her arms for a moment, eyeing the horses that were blinking at her expectantly, then moved to feed them.

"Good morrow, friends." She said to them gently, finding that the animals responded to her in a more positive way whenever she spoke to them in Gaelic. Even the large black horse that belonged to Lancelot, who had stamped in disapproval the previous day upon first meeting her, was more accepting of her whenever he heard the soft lilt of her ancestors. "Did we rest well?" She patted the nose of Gringolet, the horse that belonged to Gawain. He tossed his head impatiently as she dug around in her bag for an apple to feed him and she giggled at him when he gobbled it up quickly. "Easy, impatient one." She chastised lightheartedly.

Lugh whinnied from his stall and she laughed at his obvious jealousy, going over to him and placing her hands on either side of his large nose before rubbing her own nose against his affectionately. "Conceal your jealousy, love." She said to him sweetly. "You know my heart is yours."

She straightened up and treated him with an apple just like she had for the others but then froze when she was hit with the distinct feeling of being watched yet again. She whipped around, half expecting to finally be greeted with the sight of the stranger Tristan, but relaxed when she saw that Gawain was standing in the doorway instead. He was eyeing her with what could only be described as an appreciative look and Breck blushed a bit under his gaze, stepping away from her horse a bit as he shot her a lopsided smile and strolled towards her.

"Your language is soothing to the ear." He complimented, watching her for a moment before coming to stand before Lugh. The golden-haired knight reached his hand out so that the horse could sniff him and Breck watched as Lugh eyed him before nudging his hand. "What is his name?" Gawain asked as he began to pat the large horse's neck.

"Lugh."

"He is a fine horse." Gawain said with admiration. "And what did you say to him?"

"I said not be jealous." Breck translated, tapping Lugh on the nose playfully and make him shake his head with a huff. "He does not appreciate the attention I bestow upon the others."

Gawain chortled and reached his hand up to stroke Lugh's mane, which the horse seemed to greatly enjoy. "I understand your consternation, noble steed."

The statement had been said quietly, but Breck still clearly heard him. Gawain turned his gaze back to her to gauge her reaction and she offered him a small smile before moving away to hang up the bag of food that had been around her hips. The feel of Gawain's eyes on her back was making her anxious and all too aware of the fact that they were alone in the stables. It wasn't as though she were afraid of Gawain, but rather afraid of the foreign feelings he had been stirring within her on their past few meetings. She tried to find something to busy herself with tending to Arthur's horse as the Sarmatian took a seat on one of the benches to sharpen the axe that had been hanging on his back, using the tools stowed away in the stable.

Breck's experience with the opposite sex was next to non-existent – there had been one boy in her village in Ireland that she had fancied for a brief time and they had shared a few secret kisses, but the death of her father and her leaving to stay with Father Padraig had quickly ended the young romance and pushed all desires of wanting to find a husband out of her head. Romantic feelings simply weren't at the forefront of her mind and it had been that way for nearly six years now. Yet she couldn't deny that Gawain was very handsome and he seemed a good enough man, if the night at the tavern was anything to judge his character off of.

When she looked at him over her shoulder, she saw that he was intent on sharpening his axe, following the grooves of the blade. He was only a man, she reminded herself. And he was becoming her friend. There was no need for her to be so finicky around him and she especially did not need to lose her head over him when she planned to be leaving Hadrian's Wall in a month's time and would likely never see him again. To take her mind off of the confusing attraction she had towards Gawain, she took a moment to study his weapon. It was obvious that it had seen a lot of time in battle because the blade was looking worn and a bit ragged.

"You should reinforce the blade. It looks worn." Breck suggested as she wiped her hands on a dirty rag and strolled over to him, pushing away her troublesome feelings and holding her hand out to him. "May I?"

Gawain eyed her, glanced at his axe, and then slowly handed it over. "I feel I should be unsurprised to learn of your knowledge of weapons." He commented idly.

"My father taught me." Breck explained, eying the weapon and running her finger along the blade.

"Of course he did." Gawain said knowingly, crossing his arms and watching her inspect his weapon. She couldn't tell if he was comfortable with her scrutiny of the axe or not so she finally held the weapon back out to him. He stood to accept it, his closeness making her a bit nervous again, but she didn't miss the way he held the axe possessively within his grasp. "You are good with weapons?"

"Aye." She confirmed.

"Perhaps I will allow you to help me reinforce it then." He offered. "If you believe it needs to be done."

They stared at each other for a moment and she noticed then how much bigger then her he actually was. Though he was only about four inches taller then her, his broad frame made her feel slight and dwarfed when standing next to him. She didn't feel too intimidated by his size, since he was gazing at her with a hint of playfulness, but she could see how foes on the battlefield would be afraid of him. They finally looked away from one another when they heard approaching footsteps, watching when Jols strolled in. He froze in surprise at seeing them alone in the stable before he strolled over to the trunk and began fishing out supplies. Breck glanced at Gawain again and then took a step away from him. She wasn't sure of the look that was on his face when she did so but he quickly concealed it, sliding his axe back into the holster on his back.

"Gawain, Breck. Good morrow." Jols finally said when he turned to face them again.

"Hello, Jols." Breck greeted as Gawain nodded to him.

"Arthur wishes to see you at the training arena." Jols informed her as he started inspecting a board in one of the stalls that was working its way loose.

Breck nodded. "Where is the arena located?"

Jols started to speak but Gawain beat him to the punch. "I will escort you." He said before motioning her to follow him. "I was to head there next." She couldn't help but appreciate the view he presented when he walked away until she remembered that Jols was there now and looked over to see if her employer had noticed.

He had.

Breck shot Jols a look as he did a poor job of smothering a knowing grin and followed after Gawain. She mentally scolded herself for ogling Gawain (and at being caught) and firmly resolved that she would _not _let such an instance happen again. The last thing that she needed was Jols or some other villager spreading rumors that she had her sights set on Gawain. It would only make things more complicated and her life was troubling enough as it was without the added irritation of being the subject of gossip.

Much like when she had been walking with Dagonet, Breck noticed that the crowds in the streets parted for Gawain as he escorted her to the arena.

"Tell me of your father." Gawain urged, making conversation. A group of questionable looking women eyed Gawain as the two of them walked past a small, dingy house, but he paid them no mind and kept his attention focused on Breck. She, however, did _not _miss the death glares that they shot in her direction at stealing the man's interest.

"What do you wish to know?" Breck asked, unsure of what she should reveal to him.

"Tell me of his character. What sort of man was he?"

Breck thought back to her father and smiled fondly. "He was a fearsome man to behold." She told him.

"A trait he appears to have passed along to his daughter." Gawain remarked with a smirk.

"Among many others." She agreed with a quick laugh, feeling a little more comfortable with her companion now that they were out amongst the other inhabitants of Hadrian's Wall and not alone in the stable. "He was a warrior for the duration of his life, but his fierceness was reserved for the battlefield. At home he was kind and gentle and loved his wife and child greatly." She explained, remembering fuzzy, childhood memories she had of happy days and nights spent with her parents.

"A warrior, yet a family man." Gawain mused, his eyes turned forward a frown made its way onto his face.

Breck was caught off guard by the shift in his demeanor. "You seem perplexed." She observed.

Gawain wiped the frown from his face and then looked down at her, pursing his lips. "I presume I just am…" he trailed off, searching for the right word, "bemused by one's ability to be a warrior yet also in possession of a loving family." He finally concluded.

"Why?"

He shook his head. "I have never believed it to be a possibility." He admitted. "All of these years fighting alongside Arthur have been spent constantly laying my life on the line. As long as I am expected to fight in battles at every call, the idea of a family seems preposterous to me. How Bors copes, I have no idea." He explained before turning a challenging look on her. "Do you believe me foolish for thinking such thoughts?"

His question held a defensive tone to it as he gazed at her unwaveringly, but she could sense the vulnerability behind it as well. Yet Breck could understand why Gawain would feel in such a way; it was exactly how she felt about the idea of marrying someone while her sights were still so set on the Saxon that had murdered her family. "No." She told him firmly. "I do not."

He nodded to her with a grateful expression on his face. "And what of your mother?" He asked to change the subject. "I have not heard you speak of her."

Breck frowned and looked away from him. "I did not know her for long – she died when I was very young."

"I am sorry to hear this." Gawain said sincerely. "How did she die?"

"She was killed by a Saxon." She revealed, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice and failing.

Gawain looked like he wanted to question her further but they had reached what she assumed was the training arena on the outskirts of the village. She could spy some targets in the distance to be used for archery training, a few human-shaped blocks of wood that appeared to have seen many hard days, and a series of benches off to the left side that sat in front of what looked to be an armory or sorts. Arthur could be seen by the archery targets and he was surrounded by four, gangly looking boys.

Once she and Gawain were making their way across the arena, she spotted Galahad leaving the armory with a series of weapons and tools to sharpen them with. Breck quirked her eyebrow at the sight of them and glanced at Gawain, suddenly wondering why he'd chosen to tend to his axe in the stables when he could have easily done so here. Had he purposefully been seeking her out? Gawain must have felt her gaze because he cleared his throat and then strode away so fast that she would have been forced to run to catch him.

After a call of greeting to Galahad, Breck went to meet Arthur. Judging by the fact that the boys around him were clutching bows in their hands, she had a good idea as to why her friend had summoned her.

"Ah, Breck. I thank you for joining us so swiftly." Arthur said once she was within ear shot. The boys turned to look at her and most of them looked like they were only about twelve years old. Their nervousness was obvious, even more so once Galahad and Gawain starting to prepare to train on the other side of the arena. "I trust you are useful with a bow?" Arthur asked confidently.

"Aye." She answered. She noticed that Arthur already had her bow (which she'd kept in her room) slung casually over his shoulder and she suspected that her it wouldn't have mattered if she were good with one or not; Arthur had obviously made up his mind about whatever he was to request from her. "Rather young for warriors, my Lord." She commented quietly.

"No older then I was." He countered, handing her bow over to her. "Lads, I introduce to you one of my dearest friends, Breck." He said, turning back to the group. They all looked at her with wide eyes and she smiled at them in a friendly manner, not as bothered by the way they were gawking at her as she usually would have been since this was a reaction she was starting to grow accustomed to. "She is a skilled fighter and hunter and she will be your instructor from this day forth." He explained. "Today begins your training in archery. Breck will teach you the basic fundamentals to start and progress as she sees fit."

The boys made sounds of understanding and then scurried off when Arthur instructed them to go fetch their arrows. Once they were gone, Breck turned to Arthur with raised eyebrows. "You are certain I am the one most capable of training these children?"

Arthur patted her shoulder with a mischievous glint to his green eyes. "Perhaps not, but you are the one available." He said, making her pull a face. "I chose you because I assume you must be a skilled hunter if you survived so many years alone." He said in a more serious tone. Then he quirked an eyebrow at her. "You _are _skilled in hunting and fighting, correct? Tell me I did not lie just then."

"At the risk of sounding arrogant – yes, I am." She told him. "So I teach them to hunt?" Arthur's nod of affirmation that she wasn't training them for battle sent a wave of relief through her. It had always bothered her to see young children fighting in war and it comforted her to know that Arthur was not asking them to take on such a grave responsibility. "Why did you not mention so at the start?" She asked teasingly. Arthur only shrugged at her and she turned to watch the boys moving about the arena. "Jols will not miss my service in the stables?"

"He can spare you time and again." He responded. Breck might have been aggravated with him for offering out her services without asking her first but bit her tongue to keep from saying anything when she reminded herself that he had been extremely accommodating of her and that he was her friend. If Arthur wanted her help, she would see the job done without an argument.

The boys had started to prepare for their lesson but were obviously intimidated and even a bit afraid of the two knights that were present and slashing away at the training dummies with their swords. Breck herself wasn't so comfortable with the thought of Gawain watching her instruct the small group and she eyed the rolling fields around them as she placed her bow over her shoulder. "If I am to train them, I wish to do so in my own way."

"I would expect no less." Arthur conceded. "I have faith in your methods, whatever they may be."

"Marvelous." She said brightly before whistling at the boys to catch their attention. "Lads! Bring your weapons and grab a target!" She called to them. "We are taking our leave!"

Arthur frowned as the boys set into motion again and looked down at her quizzically. "Where are you taking them?"

"Away from those two." She said, motioning to Galahad and Gawain. "These boys are frightened out of their wits to be near them – they will never learn properly if they are not comfortable."

Arthur only looked at her proudly and then ruffled her hair, making her swat his hand away in annoyance. He left her to join his knights once the boys came carrying the targets over to her and she tried not to laugh at the fact that the four, skinny boys were struggling to carry both the weapons and the large targets.

"Here…" She said, loading up her arms with their weapons so they could carry the targets with more ease and then jerking her head to the side in a motion for them to follow her. "This way!" Breck said cheerfully, trying to ease their apprehension, before setting off with her new students.

* * *

Much to her relief, once they were away from Arthur and the two Sarmatian knights the boys relaxed considerably and were able to focus much easier. Breck started slow with the lesson, making sure that they first at least knew how to notch an arrow (which thankfully, they did) and then seeing how their aim was (which turned out to be quite horrible). She lost count of how many arrows went sailing into the shrubs and forestry surrounding their position, but tried instead to feel encouraged by the few that actually made contact with their targets. It was obvious these boys had little to no experience with the weapons in their hands and Breck realized that she would have her work cut out for her if she were to turn them into the hunters Arthur wanted.

Breck could tell after about an hour of practice that the boys were becoming frustrated with their lack of expertise in this area and with a sigh, she instructed them to carry the targets back to the arena and then dismissed them for the day.

The turn of events in her life was quite strange to her – one moment she had been out in the wilderness, hunting the Saxons and her mind focused on nothing other then seeing Cerdic slain by her sword; the next she was taking up semi-permanent residence in Briton and training young children in the ways of hunting as a favor to her friend Arthur. Had it been anyone other then Arthur that kept requesting things of her that kept her firmly stationed at Hadrian's Wall, she would have felt like she was wasting precious time. Yet since losing her father, she'd come to accept a new level of faith and believed that God had a plan for her – how Arthur and his knights were apart of this plan, she didn't know yet. But she was trusting and willing enough to wait and figure it out.

After collecting the stray arrows, she tucked them away in the multiple canisters that she'd told the boys to leave behind and then trudged back to the arena with intentions of stowing them away in the armory before heading back to the stables to see if Jols was in need of any help. Arthur, Gawain, and Galahad were no longer present once she was back in the closed off training grounds and she was glad for the brief moment of solitude as she dropped the canisters of arrows on the ground and straightened the archery targets for whichever knight would come to practice with them next. While she did so, her mind turned back to Gawain.

What was it that she felt towards Gawain? Companionship? Lust? Breck wasn't very sure. Gawain was someone that she believed she could trust, especially since they had seemed to reach some new level of understanding with their conversation on the way to the arena. But what was it that _he_ felt towards _her_? She knew that he watched her whenever she was near and she couldn't overlook the possibility that he had purposefully sought her out that morning. He seemed a decent man and was undeniably handsome; judging by the way the women in town watched him, she was not the only one to think so. All of the new feelings frustrated her, especially since she shouldn't even be allowing herself to debate her attraction for him in the first place – her concern was Cerdic, not Gawain.

Breck had just collected up the multiple canisters of arrows off the ground to carry them the few short yards to the armory when she spied a hawk perched atop one of the human-shaped wood blocks. She and the bird eyed each other and Breck tilted her head in a studious manner, having never seen a bird such as this at such a close distance. She took a step towards it to see how close it would allow her to approach before the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end again for the second time in two days. She paused, partly wishing Arthur and his two knights were still present, but instead sneakily collected an arrow from one of the many quivers under her arm without causing too much of a ruckus.

The next moment, as a horse suddenly whinnied nearby, Breck dropped the extra bundles of arrows with a noisy clatter and had an arrow notched in a blink of an eye, whipping around to see how had been spying on her with her weapon at the ready.

The man by the door to the armory was unfamiliar to her and did not look the slightest bit affected by her defensive stance nor the arrow pointed in his direction. He looked to be about the same size and build as Gawain, but his looks were the complete opposite – he had dark, tangled hair that brushed his shoulders with a dark beard, dark eyes, and an olive-toned complexion. The tribal markings on his high cheek bones where the more dominant of his features and she wondered briefly how he had obtained them. One quick glance to the horse nearby that had first sent her into action immediately made her realize who she was looking at and she lowered her weapon just slightly.

"You are Tristan." She said, more a statement then a question. The man said nothing in return but simply stared at her with an expression that she couldn't quite read. His lack of response irritated her and she quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you not?" She questioned sharply.

After a long moment, he finally spoke. "Yes."

Breck remembered how Jols had described Arthur's scout and agreed that his observation was entirely correct. Tristan was quiet _and _peculiar – where the other knights had been loud, boisterous, and very accepting of her, Tristan currently seemed to be regarding her in a way that let her know he didn't trust further then he could throw her.

"You have been following me…why?" She asked.

"Upon Arthur's request." He said simply. His accent rang clearly through his words and she noted that it was more exotic then the other men, signaling to her that he was from a different area of Sarmatia then the others.

The knowledge that Arthur had instructed his scout to follow her made her lower her weapon completely in confusion – why would Arthur want someone following her? Was it to ensure her safety? Was it to make sure she did nothing foolish? She supposed the information shouldn't have been a shock to her considering Arthur's history of being overprotective (sometimes to the point of annoyance) and, as she and Tristan stared each other down, she finally decided to ask Tristan about it.

"Why would Arthur have you follow me?"

"I do not question my orders." Tristan said flatly. "If you have a concern, converse with Arthur."

His curt manner surprised her and she could only stare in befuddlement as he whistled for the hawk resting near her and then strode to his horse. Once he was atop Azia and the hawk had flown to perch itself onto his arm, Breck watched as he pulled on the reigns and directed the horse away from the arena, leaving her in his wake without so much a backward glance.

What in the world had just happened?

Breck would have fully understood his coldness if she had maybe wronged him or given him a valid reason to distrust her, but since neither had taken place, she couldn't understand why he had been so curt on their first meeting. The other knights all seemed to like her but Tristan had come off as irritated, if not angered, by her entrance into the world of Arthur and his men. Perhaps his abrasive demeanor was another attribute of his that Jols had failed to mention, but she found herself scowling at the rudeness of the man and thrusting the useless arrow she'd trained on him back into its sheath. As if her thoughts of possibly staying in Briton on a more permanent basis and her attraction to Gawain weren't troubling enough, now she would spend her time worrying over why Tristan was being so rude to her?

_Forget the man_, she urged herself. _There are more important matters at hand then the attitude of an offensive scout._

Breck slung her bow over her shoulder again and then stalked to the armory, yanking the door open and then throwing the quivers of arrows inside carelessly in her temper. Never mind Tristan and his brusque manner; she needed to find out why in the world Arthur was having her followed in the first place.

* * *

**A/N: Annnnnd insert Tristan! Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews. This story is becoming my obssession and I'm SO excited to be writing it. Keep on reading, because I'm going to keep on writing! See you next time!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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The longer Breck dwelled on both Arthur's orders to have her followed and on her less-than-pleasant encounter with Tristan, the angrier she became. By the time she finally was stomping into the meeting room that harbored Arthur's round table, she had worked herself into quite a temper. Arthur was there, along with Lancelot, and the two of them looked up from the map they'd been eyeing in surprise when she pushed the door open with a loud clatter.

"You are having me followed?" She asked, placing her hands on her hips and looking at her friend much like a mother who was scolding her child would.

Arthur straightened up and crossed his arms, staring her down while Lancelot glanced back and forth between them with growing interest at the impending argument. "I see you have met Tristan then." Arthur observed.

"And what an amiable scout you have under your command, friend." She shot back sarcastically before glaring at him. "Why has he become my shadow at your request, Arthur?"

Arthur sighed and then turned to Lancelot. "Go and collect the men. I shall meet you in the stables shortly." He said dismissively so that he and Breck could have their argument in private. Lancelot nodded and pushed away from the table to leave. Breck ignored the wink he shot her when he walked by and kept her gaze firmly on her friend.

"Try to not kill one another." Lancelot suggested before he shut the door behind him.

"Well?" Breck asked after a stretch of silence.

"I was not having Tristan trail you out of distrust or anything of the like, if that is what you think." Arthur started to say firmly. He rolled up the map he had been looking at with Lancelot and stowed it away in a cupboard off to the side a moment later. "I only wished him to follow you for a short time to see that you were adjusting well without any altercations with the rest of the citizens." He finished, turning to head back to the table were she spotted his sword, Excalibur, lying nearby.

_Without any altercations?, _she thought to herself. She wasn't sure if he feared for her safety or those that lived at Hadrian's Wall. "You think me that barbaric, then?" She asked, feeling a bit offended. "Do you believe my time following the Saxons has left me incapable of interacting normally with others?"

Arthur heaved at her rash presumptions and shook his head. "No. That is not how I meant it." He said with a hint of impatience, stepping around the table to come and stand before her once he had his sword sheathed and attached to his hip. "Breck, you are new here, you are pretty, and you do not have a husband – you may turn a blind eye to the way the men here watch you but _I _do not. I only wanted to ensure that you are not attracting any trouble for my _own _peace of mind."

Breck felt her anger abate considerably at his words and sighed, looking away from him for a second before glancing at the sword on his hip. She frowned and then crossed her arms. "You are leaving?" She asked in interest as his orders to Lancelot finally registered in her head.

"For a short time." He confirmed with a nod. "We received word that a Woad party was spotted near the Wall. I am taking the men out to investigate. We should return by nightfall."

Breck frowned, forgetting about their short argument for a second at the news. "Woads? I always knew them to stay north of the Wall – are they attempting to venture south?"

"There are some that brave the Wall now and again." Arthur said with a nod. "Seeing as our time of servitude is coming to its end, they are beginning to grow bolder with their advances." Then he reached a hand out to place it on her shoulder. "Are you still cross with me?" He asked, changing the subject back to their spat.

Breck rolled her eyes and then shook her head. "I suppose not." She said slowly before giving him a stern look. "But you _must _begin to trust that I am capable of looking after myself, Arthur. I appreciate your concern for my safety but I am not some helpless damsel in need of a protector."

"You must be speaking the truth seeing as you caught the ever elusive Tristan following you." Arthur mused, though he didn't look entirely persuaded by her argument. When she scoffed at the thought of the rude Sarmatian, Arthur smirked down at her. " You are not fond of him, are you?"

"He was rude and quite uncivil towards me." Breck revealed disdainfully as she thought back to her encounter with the Sarmatian. "Without provocation, mind you."

"Yes, well," Arthur started with a friendly clap on her shoulder before he finally stepped away from her, "Tristan is…Tristan." He finished with a shrug. "In time, I am sure you will grow to like him well enough."

"Not likely." Breck shot back at him.

Arthur motioned for her to follow him and then led her out of the room. "I do have one more request of you." He said as they made their way through the halls. "Should we not return tonight, I ask that you stay with Vanora and not in your quarters. You are safe enough while we are present and while the knights reside next to you, but it worries me to think of what ideas some men may have while we are away."

"Arthur – " She started to protest.

He rounded on her so quickly that she had to stop in surprise, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline as he gave her a commanding look. "Breck, for once in your life do not argue with me on this and do as I say." Arthur said sharply. The fierce look in his eyes made him appear much more menacing then he normally did and she was sure that she was currently speaking with Arthur the Warrior instead of the easy-going friend she normally was presented with. She nodded her agreement, which made the tension leave his shoulders. "Do I have your word?"

"You have my word." She responded, but she had to wonder why he was being so stern with this request. "Is there a secret that you keep from me?" She asked him next.

Arthur pressed his lips together in a thin line and then shook his head. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with." He said before continuing on.

Breck stared at his back as he walked away from her and frowned, not sure that she believed him. Arthur had always been protective of her, but this was an entirely new level of paranoia for her friend and it left her with a very uneasy feeling in her stomach. There was something going on, she was certain of it. And Breck was going to find out what it was.

* * *

Breck eventually caught up to Arthur, keeping the dozens of questions that circulated in her mind to herself, and they walked back to the stables together in silence. She had a feeling that Arthur could tell she was still suspicious of his motives but he kept his eyes turned forward, obviously unwilling to do or say anything that would give his secret away. He opened the door to the stables for her and she finally managed to catch his eye, quirking an eyebrow at him as a way to tell him she was not going to forget their conversation before brushing past him.

Dagonet was the first one she spotted, since he was standing nearest to her and attaching both his saddle and his weapons to his horse. He nodded at her in greeting and she offered him a quick smile as she strode past, knowing what needed to be done without Jols telling her. She moved to begin saddling Gawain's horse since the man hadn't arrived yet while Jols was preparing Bors' horse. The brutish man himself was shrugging on his armor off to the side.

"Ello there, Breck." Bors said in greeting. "Nice day for a bit o' Woad huntin', aye?"

"I should think so." She responded as he let out a sardonic chuckle that made her question is sanity a little bit.

Breck paused on her way to the saddles when she realized that Tristan was only a handful of feet away from them. He was sharpening his sword with slow precision and he turned his eyes up to her when she started moving again and came near him. It took everything in her not to make some sort of rude face at him, still annoyed with the way he'd left her at the training arena even an hour ago, and she snatched up Gawain's saddle much more roughly then she really needed to. Her irritation was obvious but Tristan didn't look too affected by it, watching her with an unreadable expression as she moved into the stall housing the handsome knight's horse.

Once Lancelot, Gawain, and Galahad finally arrived, all of the men stopped what they were doing to gather around as Arthur began debriefing the men on what was to be expected on their mission. It was a bit strange to think of the boisterous, drunken, and friendly (with the exception of Tristan, anyway) fools that she'd grown to know moving into action and possibly about to go and slay a group of Woads – she had only seen the relaxed side of the knights up to that moment. Now, they all looked intent, focused, and the warriors in them were emerging. It made her feel a new level of respect for them and she found herself feeling very privileged that she had this group of Sarmatians as her allies. Except, perhaps, for maybe one…

She glanced over the top of Gawain's horse towards where Tristan was sitting. Of all the Sarmatians, he was the only one that didn't look too bothered with the current situation; he had sheathed his freshly sharpened sword and had instead took to snacking on one of the apples he had stolen from the horses, looking as though he didn't currently have a care in the world. It made her wonder at the man that he was as Jols' description of him floated through her mind again. Quiet? Yes. Peculiar? Extremely. Then there were the traits he _hadn't _mentioned, like rude, curt, and cold. He was very different from the other Sarmatians and Breck could tell so without even really knowing anything about Tristan.

He suddenly met her gaze and she looked away quickly, finishing her work with Gawain's horse and then turning to go and busy herself with something else. She spotted Azia wandering over towards Lugh and Breck went to her, patting her on the neck in greeting before double checking that her saddle was attached properly. Arthur dismissed his men to finish making their preparations and as the knights scattered about the room, she could feel Tristan's eyes on her. Maybe he didn't like that she was double checking his job of saddling his horse or maybe he was sizing her up the same way she had been doing so to him – either way, Breck had a job to do and she was going to see it done whether Tristan liked it or not.

"Your master has prepared you well." She said quietly to Azia in the soft, lilting Gaelic that Breck preferred to use when she didn't want people to understand what she was saying. She especially opted to use it now because she didn't want the crass man that owned the mare to know that Breck was complimenting his work. "But do not inform him I said so."

Azia tossed her head and then nudged Breck, making the redhead smile despite her irritation over the days' events. Both the woman and the mare turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and Breck squared her shoulders as Tristan came near, his eyes going back and forth between Azia and Breck with just the slightest hint of curiosity in his gaze. He stopped a few feet away from Breck, put a possessive hand on his horse, and then stared down the newcomer. Breck, on the other hand, returned his stare with a defiant expression before offering Azia's reigns to him. He eyed her hand, slowly trailing his eyes back up to hers, before taking them from her begrudgingly.

"My lady," Gawain suddenly said, making Breck avert her attention to the golden-haired Sarmatian that was now atop his horse, "will we be allowed the pleasure of your company tonight?" He asked with a grin, though he shot a couple of inquiring glances between her and the scout that was still eyeing her.

"That shall depend on your time of arrival." She told him. "And if you return unscathed." Tristan finally hoisted himself up onto his mare and then steered her away, allowing Breck to finally relax now that she didn't have his unsettling watch on her.

Gawain had a pensive look on his face for a moment before he nodded. "If I promise that we shall return alive and well and at a decent hour, you will join us?"

Breck shook her head in amusement and then nodded. "Yes, Gawain – under those conditions, I agree to join you." She promised him.

"Gawain." Arthur said sharply from where he sat on his own steed. "We have a mission to see to. Get your mind in the correct state." He chastised. Gawain's expression immediately became serious and he pursed his lips with a curt nod while Galahad and Bors tried to hide their snickering behind their hands. Arthur looked down at Breck next with a stern expression. "Remember my request of you." He said.

"I shall." Breck said.

Arthur looked grateful at her affirmation and then jutted his chin into the air. "Knight – we ride." He commanded before he went galloping out of the stables, his knights following closely behind.

* * *

Once the knights were out on their mission and she and Jols had cleaned the stalls, Breck decided to take advantage of not having Tristan trailing her and went to the pond to take a much needed bath. She figured there would be no time like the present, seeing as she would rather Tristan _didn't _see her naked, and let the water soothe her aching muscles that were still sore from the stable work she'd been doing. It felt refreshing to be completely clean for the first time in days and she took the opportunity of her solitude to wash her clothes as well. She knew it was brave of her to lie around naked in the tall grass that surrounded the pond while she let her clothes dry, but it was rare to have a sunny day in the usually foggy, rainy conditions that plagued Briton and she wanted to enjoy it. Breck was positive that the overprotective Arthur would have a conniption if he knew she was naked in public and snickered to herself, feeling rebellious.

Once her clothes were dry, Breck opted to change into the dress Vanora had brought to her instead of her usual garb, opting to look more feminine now that she was clean and finished with her work for the day. She thought back to her conversation with Arthur as she made her way through town to take her unused clothes back to her quarters and tried to imagine what could be going through his head. Were the occupants of the Wall not as gentle as Breck had originally gathered? Was he just being paranoid because she wasn't a child anymore? Then she started as another idea popped into her head – had she been misjudging Arthur's feelings towards her this entire time? _No_, she thought firmly. Breck knew it wasn't because Arthur fancied her himself. There was no way he could – their relationship was far too similar to that of a brother and sister for it to even be a possibility.

Breck eyed the town's people around her as she made her way through the square and noticed for the first time just how many people watched her as she went past them. It was one of the few times that she didn't have a Sarmatian at her side and while she didn't necessarily feel threatened by the people around her, it was a bit unsettling to be scrutinized so closely. As a few women whispered behind their hands, obviously speaking about her, she began to wonder what everyone else made of her relationship with the knights. After all, she _was _unmarried and had been seen around town escorted by over half of the knights – to many, that would seem quite scandalous.

After Breck dropped her clothes off at her quarters, she armed herself with a few concealed weapons, just in case, and then set off to find Vanora to see if she could get some answers from the woman. Like she suspected she would, Breck found Vanora working busily in the tavern.

"Good day, Vanora." Breck said in greeting as she walked up to her.

"Breck, good to see you!" Vanora responded with a smile, looking suddenly relieved to see Arthur's friend. She had a baby swaddled in her arms and she rushed to Breck quickly. "It is fortunate you have come – could I ask a favor of you? Mind my baby while I clear the tables?" She asked.

Breck looked at the child quickly in slight alarm, having no experience when it came to babies. "Er – you are sure you trust me?"

"Do not be silly." Vanora said before practically shoving the child into Breck's arms. Breck froze as the small bundle nestled into the crook of her elbow and looked down at the chubby little baby before looking back at Vanora. "How fares you this fine afternoon?" The woman asked, moving easier now that she didn't have her baby in her arms.

With one last glance at the baby, Breck answered. "Rather vexed, if I should speak the truth."

Vanora balanced a tray in one of her hands and frowned, motioning for Breck to follow her as she went to collect some dirty dishes from a table that had just emptied out. "Why is this?"

Breck frowned and glanced around to see if anyone was paying attention to them. "Arthur has Tristan trailing me and he requested I stay with you should they not return this night." Breck said quietly. "Yet he would not reveal why when I questioned him on this matter – do you know his motives?"

Vanora froze and then straightened up, looking at her unsurely. "I might."

Breck sighed and gave her a pleading look. "Vanora…"

The older redhead had a contemplative look on her face for a moment and then she pulled Breck off to the side so they could have a bit of privacy. "It might not be of a great concern to many, but because Arthur holds you to such high regard it is something that greatly disturbs _him_." Vanora finally said quietly. "Bors overheard something a man said a few nights past and though he was drunk, his words made my lover believe Arthur needed to be informed."

Breck frowned. This certainly wasn't what she'd been expecting to hear. "What was said?"

"The man has his sights on you and claimed he would make you his," Vanora said. "Even if he had to do so with force."

Breck could agree with Vanora that the words of a drunken man couldn't be regarded with too much caution, since usually intoxication fueled words were only hogwash. Yet she could see exactly why Arthur would take offense and it explained perfectly well why he'd commanded his scout to watch out for her. "Who is this man?" Breck asked, shifting the baby into her other arm when he began to fuss a bit.

"This I do not know. Bors would not say." Vanora said regretfully. "He assumed I would tell you and did not want you confronting this man yourself."

"Of course." She said sarcastically.

"Are you upset by this news?"

Breck shrugged at her. "Not particularly." She admitted. "This is not the first instance of a man speaking such words against me. Then again, I have never lingered long enough for such actions to be seen accomplished." A worried expression crossed Vanora features and Breck offered her a comforting smile. "Do not fear, Vanora. The men obviously have been made aware and I am capable of handling myself."

"I am sure. Just…be mindful."

"I shall."

* * *

Breck decided to spend the rest of the day in the tavern with Vanora, primarily babysitting the woman's youngest child but also helping her with a few chores here and there to pass her time. The knowledge that some mysterious man had his eye on her wasn't necessarily bothersome, but she still wanted to know who he was. She tried to ascertain who the man might have been by watching the male patrons more closely, but there was no point since most of the shadier looking men were leering at every woman in their path, including her.

The tavern filled considerably by nightfall and Breck ended up dining with Jols. With the distraction of her employer keeping her mind off what she and Vanora had discussed, she found herself thinking instead of Arthur and the knights. Though she hadn't outwardly expressed it, the thought of them riding out to fight Woads disconcerted her. She'd had a few encounters with the Woads in her journey to Hadrian's Wall and knew how relentless and ruthless they could be when they had a plan. She'd always been able to escape since it was just she and Lugh and they were less conspicuous, but Arthur and his knights would surely draw more attention then she did and she hoped that they hadn't ridden out to some form of an ambush.

"Ah – here they come!" Jols suddenly said.

Breck had been toying with Eleven's hand while he slept and looked up, feeling immensely relieved when she spied the knights filing in through the tavern door. The majority of them went to the bar at once, but Gawain and Lancelot had spotted her and Jols at their table and walked over to join them. She noticed with a frown that Arthur wasn't among them but assumed that if something had happened to him that the knights would be in much worse spirits.

"As promised." Gawain said with a slight bow, showing her he was unharmed, before taking the seat next to her. Breck noticed that while his face looked freshly cleaned, his hair and clothes still had specks of blood in them letting her know that they had indeed found a Woad party and taken care of the problem. "I am starved."

"Here." Breck offered, pushing her half eaten plate to him with her free hand. "I filled my hunger."

Gawain eyed her and the baby in her arm before nodding his head with a curious looking expression on his face. "Many thanks." He said before digging in, looking lost in thought.

"Arthur is searching for you." Lancelot said when he saw her looking around for Arthur again. "He will find you – stay in our company." He commanded next. Lancelot looked tired and she could spy blood on him as well, but he brightened up when Bors, Dagonet, and Galahad came to join them with multiple mugs of ale in their hands. "Ah, what I have been dreaming of all day..." Lancelot said before chugging down his drink.

"There's my boy." Bors said when he spotted Eleven in her arms.

Breck offered her to him and then stretched her arms to get the ache out from having held him in the same position for so long. She glanced to the table adjacent as the men began retelling the tale of their journey to Jols and eyed Tristan, who had taken a seat on top of the table and was chewing his food slowly, his eyes darting around the tavern. Breck wondered if he was searching for the man that had spoken about her and had a brief notion to confront him about it, but seeing as Tristan had been so short with her before she assumed he wouldn't tell her what she wanted to know.

"How boresome was your day without our company?" Galahad asked, looking tired but happy to be back at the Wall.

"A quite uneventful one." She half-lied. "I shall surely perish should my new friends ever abandon me for too long of a period."

"I think you exaggerate." Gawain retorted with a smirk.

"I think you are correct." She said before they shared a quick laugh.

Arthur walked through the door in the next moment and he paused to search around the tavern before his eyes landed on her. He smiled, looking a bit relieved, and then walked over. "You mean to say you heeded my request?" He asked, looking pleased.

"I gave you my word." She said with a nod.

Arthur smiled and then looked to Tristan, raising his eyebrows just the slightest. When the scout gave a quick shake of his head, Arthur clapped him on the back and then went to the bar.

Breck shook her head and watched him go – Arthur really was too good to her. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when it concerned his men and the people on his land, yet he still took the time to worry about some drunken man saying offensive things about her. It warmed her heart to know someone cared for her so much and she decided that she wouldn't confront anyone about the situation. The last thing she wanted to do was cause Arthur to worry more. She would just simply have to watch her back from this point on. And that was nothing new for her.

* * *

**A/N: I was going to wait to post this, but I just could't resist…especially when I saw how Kristall would be! Oh, you guys…you just don't even know what you're in store for…muahahaha.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

The days that followed after that went much the same – Breck would work in the stables with Jols and Devran for the majority of the morning and afternoon, teach the four boys how to hunt whenever time allowed it, and then dine with the knights in the tavern at the end of the day. It had been over a week since she had arrived at Hadrian's Wall and Breck felt settled and comfortable with her surroundings, thanks in large part to both earning steady income and also because of the friendships she'd formed with Arthur's knights.

Most of the Sarmatians treated her as though she were a little sister to them, which she didn't mind in the slightest. While some other women might have felt overwhelmed by the never ending testosterone (especially when they began drinking and became highly obnoxious), Breck had been surrounded by men her entire life and was accustomed to it. Even though her new friends were rowdy, sometimes temperamental, and some had the tendency to stray towards the less-then-admirable women from time to time, Breck was able to overlook it and was happy to be in their company.

She was, however, unable to overlook her suspicions of Gawain's feelings towards her. The knight had been her almost constant companion since arriving at the Wall and with every passing day, she began to think more and more that he desired more then just friendship from her. He hadn't come outright and said it, but the way he acted spoke louder then any of his words could. Breck caught him watching her often and he somehow always managed to place himself beside her when she was with the men. Not to mention that he seemed to have dismissed any woman that approached him since meeting her, much to the dismay of the town whores. Breck couldn't say that she didn't enjoy the attention, since Gawain was both handsome and quite kind to her, but she still wasn't sure that a romantic relationship was something she wanted.

All in all, her friendships with the knights, though varying with each Sarmatian, were all good relationships. She had been perfecting a number of medical techniques with Dagonet whenever she could spare the time, Bors had branded her his new drinking partner, and Galahad had quickly become like a brother to her. Lancelot, though overly flirtatious, was actually a great partner for conversation and though she hadn't been sure of him at first, he had proven to actually be a decent friend. Where in the past she had found friends like these to be nothing more then liabilities, now she had grown to cherish the bonds they were forming.

…Except where Tristan was concerned, of course.

If Breck were to describe their relationship, the only word she would be able to use would be 'unstable'. Though she didn't suspect Tristan to be untrusting of her anymore, she was certain that he didn't care for her much. Maybe it was because he disliked that he had to continue to trail her, or maybe it was because she wasn't afraid of him or afraid to speak her mind around him, which seemed to be the case for everyone else that resided at Hadrian's Wall. Either way, he was the only knight that she had butted heads with so far. He didn't speak often around her whenever they wound up in the same place at the same time, but if he did it usually was because she had done something to irritate him and he would say something biting towards her before hastily leaving.

Currently, as Breck made her way to her quarters to wash up before going to the tavern, she was still fuming over an argument that she and Tristan had gotten into the previous day. The argument, while completely unexpected, had been their worst one to date.

* * *

_Breck was pleased to see how far her pupils were progressing in their hunting lessons. The four boys, who had barely even been able to hit the target when they first started a week ago, could now shoot down birds, rabbits, and squirrels with an impressive success rate. It made her feel very accomplished to see that she was bettering the boys' lives in such a way and also comforted her to know that they would be able to benefit from their newfound skills for the duration of their lives. They obviously felt the same way, because the group had presented her with two dead squirrels and a rabbit as a gift of thanks – perhaps not the most desirous of gifts but seeing as that could produce multiple meals, Breck thought it was very meaningful._

_She stowed away the quivers of arrows in the armory, her own bow slung over her shoulder and the three dead animals hanging from her hip, and was about to turn to leave when another bow caught her eye. She frowned thoughtfully as she walked over and picked it up, eyeing it critically. The wood of the bow itself still looked to be in good condition but the string was beginning to fray from use and come detached at the ties. It was obvious to her that the exotically shaped bow was in need of repair and since she was finished with her work for the day, she decided to take on the new project. _

_Breck hooked the bow around her shoulder to join her own and then set off for the stable to begin the meticulous task. Her father had shown her his own methods for creating a strong string made from a combination of horsehair and animal sinew that had never failed her, but the process was a bit tedious. After collecting a good amount of hair from Lugh's tail, she headed down to the pond. She was able to collect enough sinew from the animals that her students had presented her with and once she had them soaked in the water, cleaned, and then pliable enough to work with she set to making the string. _

_She wasn't sure how long she sat there winding in the sinew with the horsehairs but as the sun started to get lower in the sky, the sound of footsteps caught her attention. She froze, ever on alert these days, and glanced over her shoulder to see who was coming while her hand had begun to inch towards her dagger. With a quirked eyebrow, she noted that it was only Tristan who was walking up to her and he looked very much like he wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. _

"_Tristan." She said flatly in greeting as she relaxed, looking back down at her work._

"_Arthur sent me." He said once he was a few feet away. _

"_Of course he did." Breck answered, pulling on the ends of the string to test its durability. The elasticity felt good now and would be ready to dry once it was attached to the bow. "May I enquire as to why?" She asked, pulling her dagger from her boot. _

"_You were to help Bors this afternoon. You did not show." He said after a pause. _

_Breck cursed and looked to the sky. She'd been so wrapped up in fixing the bow that she had completely forgotten that she promised Vanora she'd help Bors babysit the children that afternoon. The burly man had been feeling a bit ill for the past few days and whenever the children were left unattended for too long a time period, something catastrophic usually tended to happen. _

"_I forgot." She said, shaking her head. "I will be along shortly." _

_When Tristan didn't leave right away, Breck glanced over at him to see why he was lingering. He was currently trying to look around to see what she was doing and finally, he took a step forward to get a better view. She didn't know why he had a sudden interest in something that she was involved in but she decided to ignore him. Honestly, she had never met a man that was harder to figure out then Tristan. One moment he is rude and insulting and the next he is following her about town to ensure her safety – he was infuriating to her. She frowned at the thought as she put her dagger against the old string attached to the bow and, with a swift motion, cut it at the ties. _

"_What have you done, woman?" Tristan suddenly asked sharply. _

_She looked up at him with a bored expression, a bit used to his moodiness around her now, and showed him her project. "Fixing a new string to this bow. What else?" _

"_That is _my _bow." He growled moving forward with a speed she didn't know he possessed and ripping the now stringless bow from her hands. Her eyes widened at his actions, since this was the most emotion she'd ever seen him express, and she watched as he eyed the bow with an increasingly deeper scowl. He swung his gaze back on her and she could practically feel his anger on her skin. "You stupid girl. You do not think before you act." He shot at her. _

_Breck narrowed her eyes at him, feeling highly insulted, and stood to her feet quickly. She crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him and he met the look with a glare of his own. "I _think_ your weapon was in poor condition and needed tending to. Perhaps if you had done so yourself, I would not have felt the need to. Forgive me for trying to be of help." She said angrily. _

"_I need no help." Tristan countered. "Not from the likes of you." _

"_Because I am a woman?" She retorted._

"_Because you are a nuisance." He glowered. He practically shoved the bow under her nose in the next moment, making her move her head back to avoid getting whacked by it.. "This bow needed _no _fixing." _

_Now fully fed up with him and his temperament, Breck reached down to grab the new string and then stalked up to him, shoving it against his chest and making him snatch a hand up to grab it. They stood glaring at each other, practically nose to nose despite his slight height advantage over her, and she poked him hard in the chest._

"_Now it does." She said before grabbing her dagger and stalking away from him. _

* * *

Breck still couldn't believe the nerve of him. She had only been trying to help and he had acted as though she had destroyed or even desecrated his weapon. She hadn't even known that he was the one in possession of the bow but had she known what his reaction would be to her maintaining it, she would have let the weapon be and hoped that the string snapped under Tristan's use at the most inopportune time. Then maybe he would have learned the hard way that he should take better care of his things or at least be willing to accept the help when it was offered.

At that point, she firmly believed that no matter what she did or said, it would always be wrong in Tristan's eyes. She had no idea why he disliked her much but what really bothered her was how much she let it affect her. In the past, when she had been moving from town to town tracking the Saxons she had dealt primarily with men for her trades and deals, which meant she had to be tough and stand her ground to avoid getting taken advantage of. The cut-throat attitude she presented had earned her a lot of enemies, yet it had never bothered her.

So why did she care if Tristan didn't like her? It wasn't as though she cared for him very much in return. Yet he still managed to get under her skin and press her buttons, seemingly knowing exactly what to say to set her anger off without so much as a blink of his cold, dark eyes.

"There you are!"

Breck had just stepped up to her door when Galahad poked his head out his quarters. "Here I am…" She repeated, unsure as to why her friend had been waiting for her.

"I require your service, dear lady." He said as he motioned her over.

"May I enquire as to what for?" She asked skeptically walking towards him slowly. He produced a small dagger and then pointed to his hair. She felt her annoyance at Tristan evaporate at Galahad's hopeful look and shook her head, taking the dagger from him. "You require a haircut?" She asked.

"If you should be so kind to aid this poor soul, yes." He said dramatically.

"In with you." She said, motioning him into his room before following him inside. There was already evidence of his attempt at cutting his own hair scattered around on the floor and once she started inspecting the job he'd done so far, she saw why he needed help; most of the cut was jagged and uneven and she was sure that Eight, Vanora and Bors' four year old, could have done a better job. She clicked her tongue at him and pushed him into a chair so she could have a better angle. "I shall fix this atrocity, friend." She informed him, beginning to pull up curls here and there before slicing them cleanly.

"A thousand times, thank you." Galahad said as he relaxed under her ministrations.

"You are welcome."

Galahad was only silent for a moment before he spoke again. "You have Tristan is quite a state." He commented.

Breck scoffed and shook her head, pulling one of his curls straight before slicing part of it off with the dagger in her hand and letting it fall back into place. "It seems he is always in a state where I am concerned."

"True." Galahad agreed. "In all our years as comrades, I have never witnessed someone evoke such emotions from him so easily – or rather, not when outside of the battlefield. Had you been a man, you would be dead where you stand."

"Your words comfort me." She said sarcastically, making her friend laugh.

Despite how daunting it was to learn that she pulled emotions out of Tristan that were usually reserved for the battlefield, it did make her feel rather triumphant to know that she irritated him as much as he irritated her. At least she was not the only one suffering in their volatile relationship. It made her wonder if he said negative things about her whenever she wasn't around, but she the thought of Tristan venting to the men about his personal problems seemed ludicrous to her. He was much too secretive for that.

"Do you hate him?"

Breck paused at Galahad's question.

Did she hate Tristan? For a moment, Breck thought back to some of her encounters with the intolerable knight and frowned, pursing her lips. She was sure that no one could blame her if she did hate him, considering the way he treated her, but if there was one emotion that she knew like the back of her hand it was hate. The angry, red hot burning sensation that came with hatred was within her but it was reserved for only one person – Cerdic.

With a sigh, she shook her head and resumed her work. "No." She answered truthfully. "He is insufferable, but I do not harbor hatred for the man."

"That is a relief to know. Arthur respects Tristan greatly; it would be a disappointment to him should you have such feelings towards our scout." Galahad said. "And what of Gawain?" He added surreptitiously.

Breck felt her cheeks turn pink and tugged on a curl a little harder then she really needed to, causing him to make a sound of protest. "What of him?" She countered defensively.

"There is talk, that is all." He said with a short laugh. "You admire him." He said pointedly, leaving no room for question. Breck wondered if she wasn't being as conspicuous as she previously thought and mentally scolded herself.

"Gawain is a good man; it would be difficult not to." She finally said. "I am not the only one to think so." Breck retorted.

"Yes," he said impatiently, "but the question is this – how _much _do you admire him?"

Breck wondered if Galahad was prying on his behalf or because Gawain had asked him to. Regardless, she had a feeling that whatever she said now would eventually reach Gawain's ears and knew she had to choose her words carefully. "I find Gawain to be intelligent and good company to be in. And yes, I think him handsome." She admitted while she continued to work on Galahad's hair. "But I do not yet know what my feelings for the man are."

Galahad nodded his understanding and then glanced back at her, making her pause again. "May I enquire about something?" He asked unsurely. When she nodded, he gave her an unreadable look. "How did you come to be in Briton?"

Though Breck had suspected that the other knights had wanted to ask her this very question for some time now, seeing as she kept her past shrouded in such secrecy around them, Galahad was the first to do so. It was soothing to know that Arthur had not spilled all of her secrets but she wasn't sure if she was ready to share her past with the knights just yet. She hoped that they trusted her enough not to hold her lineage against her but she was all too aware of the reception a Saxon usually received and wasn't sure that she could handle being shunned by her new friends.

"You may trust me." Galahad added gently.

Breck finally set the dagger down and took the seat next to him. He was watching her with interest, recognizing that this was obviously a serious subject, and she finally decided that if there was anyone she could trust with this information (other then Arthur) it would be Galahad.

"You have heard of Cerdic?"

"The Saxon?" He clarified. "Yes."

Breck took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, hoping that what she was about to reveal would not turn out to be a mistake. "My father, Kenrick, was Saxon and fought alongside Cerdic for many, many years." She revealed, watching as his eyes widened. "I am of Saxon blood."

"You…what?" He finally asked, astonished to hear the news.

Breck nodded in affirmation. "The pair of them were great friends for a very long while, until my father found my mother, who was Celt. Cerdic disapproved of the match from the start and it only worsened when I was born, but he did not yet wish to cast aside my father." She explained. When Galahad looked a bit confused by this, she continued on. "He did not approve of coupling outside of the Saxon line. He thought it a blasphemy."

He seemed to understand then and gave a quick nod. "What happened?"

"My father grew agitated with the fighting and when my mother became pregnant for the second time, he wished us to be away from it. Cerdic ordered an ambush before we could escape. My father and I survived and made for Briton, where he vowed to help Uther, Arthur's father, find and kill Cerdic. That is how we were allowed passage into Hadrian's Wall."

"Yet Cerdic still lives." Galahad mused, watching her with rapt attention.

"That he does." Breck said bitterly. "And because of their inability to be rid of him then, Cerdic was allowed to track us to Ireland and kill my father as well, forcing me out of another home. I have been on the run ever since and when I learned of how near I was to Briton, I knew I would find solitude here with Arthur."

Galahad stared at her for a long moment and then reached over to grab her hand, holding it tightly. The look on his face could only be described as sympathetic, which was giving her hope that he was not about to say something negative. "Your tale is a sad one, dear friend, but I am happy you have survived." He said earnestly. "This changes nothing of the way I regard you."

A massive sense of relief washed over her and she clutched his hand tightly, thankful that nothing would change between them. Breck had purposefully left out the part where her mission was to find and kill Cerdic, fearing that Galahad would react the same way that Arthur would, but at least her friend now knew of her history and of her bloodline. His reception gave her hope that, when the time came to tell them, the other knights would be just as accepting of her. With a smile, she released his hand and stood to finish cutting his hair.

"Thank you, Galahad." She said quietly, letting him see her true vulnerability for the first time. "You do not know what this means to me."

"You are my friend, Breck." He responded. "Saxon or not, I would have you no other way."

* * *

Galahad only received a few good-natured taunts over his new haircut once they arrived at the tavern and she left him to deal with the teasing of his comrades in order to go and get herself something to eat. As she conversed with Vanora for a quick moment, Breck couldn't help but feel genuinely happy for the first time in a very long time. For so long her heart had been ruled by hatred and vengeance, but these mouthy, alcohol-loving Sarmatian knights were beginning to tear down the walls that she'd built up so many years ago and she couldn't even really say that she minded anymore. Breck found herself considering that perhaps her destiny was _not _to chase after Cerdic, but rather to come here and finally find some sense of peace amongst this unruly group of men.

"Ello." A voice said from her right.

Breck turned to the voice and spotted a man that she had never seen before. He was about her height, of average built, and sporting both greasy black hair and a slightly greasy face. He was probably at least ten years older then she was and she regarded him for a moment, unsure why he was approaching her. The conversation she'd had with Vanora came rushing back to the forefront of her memory and her heart thudded hard in her chest at the possibility this may be him. The grin on his face was unsettling and she inched her way back away from him inconspicuously.

"Yes?" She asked.

"I am Gerland." He introduced. "Might I offer you some ale?" He asked.

Breck glanced at Vanora, whose eyes were darting back and forth between Breck and the knights in obvious anxiety, then turned her attention back to the man. "No, thank you, sir. My friends have done so already." She said, pointing to the knights in the far corner.

"What is one more drink?" He asked, sounding a bit annoyed at her refusal.

Breck had thought the indication towards the Sarmatians would put him off but apparently, it wasn't. She opened her mouth to speak again, this time more sternly, but another voice beat her to the punch.

"Her answer is no." Came the sharp, accented voice that she recognized to belong to Tristan.

She didn't have to turn to see where he was; she could feel him standing directly behind her. His closeness sent a zing of awareness down her spine but unlike the negative feelings the greasy man in front of her had invoked, these feelings were something quite different. Breck held her breath, acutely aware of the way Tristan's breath was stirring up her hair just slightly, and watched as the man visibly gulped in the presence of the feared knight. Then he left so quickly that she was surprised he did not kick up dust in his retreat.

Breck released the breath she was holding and watched the man scurry away like a wounder dog. Tristan did not move from his position behind her and after a moment, she finally mustered up all of her courage to look at Tristan over her shoulder. His eyes were following the path of the stranger as he wove back to a table in the far corner, a dangerous glint obvious in his dark orbs, before he finally met Breck's stare. She watched the fierceness leave his gaze and melt away into that same unreadable mask that he always seemed to have on.

She had no idea what to say to him just then. The last time they had seen each other they had made each other so mad that she wouldn't have been surprised if they had ended up in a brawl. Now he had come to her rescue and was standing so close to her that she could smell the forest on his clothes. If Breck had been confused by her feelings for Gawain, now she was downright confounded by the sudden swing of emotions towards Tristan.

She finally realized that they were just staring at each other and snapped out of her thoughts. She was just about to express her gratitude at his interference when he turned on his heel and walked off without one word, leaving her to stare after him with a bewildered expression.

* * *

**A/N: You know you're obsessed with your story when you manage to incorporate the Dark Ages into your conversations at work…Review!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing realted to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck was still reeling from the brief encounter with Tristan when she awoke the next morning. She'd had a fitful night of sleep, probably only get a total of a few hours of rest because her mind was so jumbled with confusion, and the redhead simply did not understand why she had reacted to him in such a way when she had felt nothing but annoyance and irritation with him since their first meeting. Even when she thought of him now, she did not remember how infuriating he could be when scolding her for no good reason or how aggravated he made her feel when he would walk off in the middle of her speaking to him – no, she suddenly found herself recalling little details about him that she had never noticed before, like how what she had thought were tangles in his hair were actually braids and how his dark eyes actually held small flakes of amber in them.

Now that she thought about it, Tristan was actually quite…handsome. He wasn't sociable or kind and didn't seem to care what happened to most of the people around him, but damn him he was handsome. And now that she'd had that revelation, it was all she seemed to be able to think about. Then she began to think of how it had felt to stand so close to him and have his scent invading her senses and felt the nerves in her body begin to tingle much like they had the night before.

With a frustrated growl, Breck threw her covers off and began pacing her floor. What in the _hell _was wrong with her? This entire time she had been convincing herself that having feelings for Gawain would be a mistake and now here she was thinking about the handsomeness of Tristan. Surely if having an attraction to one man was a bad thing, being attracted to two would be even worse.

Breck strode to her trunk and yanked it open, fishing around in it for the one sheet of parchment she knew she had and then searching for the quill and ink she usually kept on her. While she was willing to allow herself the luxury of friends, she was _not _willing to turn into some simpering woman that lost her head over every attractive man that crossed her path. She needed to do something to try and feel like her old self again and with a cry of triumph, Breck held up the battered, unattractive quill and the tiny bottle of ink like they were pieces of solid gold. Then she marched over to the table and sat down with a huff to begin to write.

The letter was to one of her contacts on the northern shores of Briton. The cost to get the letter to him would be pricey because it would such a long winded and dangerous trek for the messenger, but it had been a long time since she'd tried to get any new information on the Saxon movement and she needed to get an update. The letter at least took her mind off of her troubling thoughts for a moment and she felt a bit calmer as she scribbled out the quick correspondence, first informing her contact where she could be located and then asking for any information they might have received. Once the letter was sealed, she dressed for the day and then strode off to find a willing messenger to take the note to its destination.

Breck had had to empty nearly a third of her coin purse to get the young man to agree to take the note, but once he was on his horse and galloping away with it in his clutches she felt a bit steadier then she had when she had woken up.

Before her thoughts on Tristan had taken a turn for the confusing, Breck had seriously been considering extending her stay at the Wall – she had money in her pocket, food in her belly, and a warm bed to sleep in every night. The fact that she had made so many friends and was reunited with Arthur were bonuses that had made the case for the Wall even stronger, but now she was beginning to question how good of an idea it really was to linger here. Her thoughts of Gawain and Tristan were going to slowly drive her mad and she knew that it would only get more confusing if she stayed and allowed herself to figure out what everything she was feeling meant.

What was it about these men that held so much sway over her? Breck had been surrounded by men all of her life, had been pursued by men before, but none of them had put her in the state she currently was in. She knew it wasn't out of loneliness because she had a friend at her side more often then not these days. Was it because she had actually made the effort to know them better? Maybe it was because they were some of the first to fit the mold of what _real _men were in her eyes – they were strong, masculine warriors; the very type of men that she had been surrounded by when growing up and had always admired. Perhaps, she thought begrudgingly, the romantic part of her brain was finally tired of being repressed and her inner female was trying to make herself be known.

What did any of them truly have to offer, anyway? Breck knew they still had around four months left of their servitude to carry out and despite enjoying her time at the Wall (mostly), she still had her sights set on Cerdic. She was opposed to romantic involvement with anyone until Cerdic was dealt with and Gawain had openly expressed his opposition to taking a wife while serving. As for Tristan? Well, the man seemed absolutely uninterested in anything other then his horse and his hawk and Breck knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was his least favorite person. It was ludicrous to dwell on either of these men and Breck reminded herself, for what had to be the thousandth time, that she didn't need to let herself become carried away with such thoughts.

"Where have you been?" Arthur asked when he saw her approaching the stables.

"Seeing to errands." She said dully, walking past him without regarding him much in her frustrated state.

"Breck." Arthur said, grasping her by the forearm when she tried to go past him and pulling her around to face him again. He looked concerned as he observed her troubled expression, a deep frown creasing his forehead. "You do not look well." He commented. "What ails you? Has something happened?"

A lot had happened since coming to Briton; she had become attracted to one man and now possibly another, she didn't have any information on the Saxons, a lecherous man somewhere in the village had it out for her, and she'd completely lost sight of herself. But she didn't say any of these things to her friend. Instead she shook her head at him. "Nothing is amiss." Breck finally said. "Forgive me. I am merely in a bad state this day." She answered him vaguely.

Arthur didn't seem convinced but didn't question her any further. "We have been called away again." He said, changing the subject. "We shall be gone longer this mission, perhaps for a week. It would appease my anxiety if you – "

"Were to reside with Vanora." Breck finished for him, trying to keep the bite out of her voice. "Do not fear, friend. I shall."

If she thought he looked concerned before, now he looked doubly so at her lack of argument over his request. She turned to head into the stables and felt his eyes on her back the entire time. Breck felt regretful for not being open and honest with Arthur but she needed to get a handle on her own emotions before she could drag anyone else into them. Besides, how could she go to him about her troubles with two of his men? She was sure that Arthur didn't even believe her to be capable of such feelings, let alone for two men that should not have been possible suitors to begin with.

When she walked into the stables, she spotted Tristan and Gawain almost immediately. Gawain smiled brightly at her when she met his gaze but then frowned, mirroring the same concern that Arthur had shown. He made a move to come towards her and rather then have to suffer through another round of probing questions, she turned her back on him to help Dagonet with his horse instead. As it turned out, this was a mistake all in its own. The large Sarmatian took one look at her and immediately tuned in to his healing skills.

"Are you ill?" The healer asked, towering over her and pressing the back of his large hand to his forehead, checking for any signs of a fever. "You seem tired and the skin beneath your eyes is dark."

"I am well, Dag." She said, trying to wave his hand off.

"Breck –"

"I said there is nothing wrong!" She finally snapped, her emotions boiling over. Breck was sick of being coddled, she was tired of the being treated like she was made of glass, and she had had enough of the confusion that she had been feeling since arriving at Hadrian's Wall.

Dagonet's eyebrows shot up in surprise while the other knights immediately stopped what they were doing and looked over to see what all of the commotion was about. Breck stared up at Dagonet and felt the scowl drop away from her face, immediately felt guilty for snapping at both he and Arthur and cursing herself for taking her frustrations out on innocent bystanders. She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and then took a calming breath before looking at Dagonet with an apologetic expression as she reigned in her anger.

"Forgive me, Dagonet. It was wrong of me to speak to you in such a manner. I did not rest well this past night and it has affected my state. I am sorry."

"You are forgiven." He said slowly with a nod. "Jols?" He called to her employer. "Perhaps it would be beneficial for our friend if she were to rest this day?"

"Yes, I believe it should." Jols agreed, smiling at Breck gently and looking mildly alarmed when she looked over at him. He probably was afraid he'd get snapped at, too.

"Go to Vanora's." Dagonet suggested. "She has been made aware that you will be staying with her."

Breck nodded and turned to face the rest of the knights. Bors, Galahad, Lancelot and Gawain all had similar expression of worry on their faces while Tristan was watching her intently from his spot next to Azia. She only briefly made eye contact with the two men that had her so conflicted, instead mustering up a smile for Galahad. "I shall see you again when you return, friend." She addressed the group. "Be safe."

"Rest well." Galahad called to her.

Breck stopped by Arthur, who was lingering in the doorway, and pulled him outside with her as she exited the stables. Once they were away from the prying eyes of the knights, she wordlessly pulled him into a hug and clung to him tightly, not caring who was watching or what they may be thinking. Right then she needed a bit of comfort and she couldn't think of anyone better then Arthur to give it to her. He returned her hug, running a soothing hand up and down her back, before pressing a brotherly kiss to the top of her head.

"We shall have council upon my return." Arthur said when they released one another. "We have many things to discuss."

"Aye." She agreed.

"Go and get rest, friend. We shall see each other soon enough."

* * *

After tucking herself away in Vanora's bed and sleeping the rest of the morning away, her head felt much clearer. She was able to get out bed with motivation (and at the insistence of the group of children surrounding her) and this time she wasn't plagued with so many maddening thoughts. While she would worry for the safety of Arthur and the knights while they were out on duty, it was a relief to know that she would have some time away from both Gawain and from Tristan and her mind was practically celebrating the fact.

Since she had the rest of the day free of duties, she spent the day playing with Vanora's children and telling them stories, happy for the new distractions. It made her think back to time when she had been a young child and both of her parents had still been alive. So many nights had been spent curled up in her mother's lap in front of the fire while her father told stories of heroic ancestors of tales of his own battles – even then she had preferred the adventurous stories to the romantic ones. Yet, Breck couldn't help but wish that she could speak to her mother right then, missing her more then ever at that particular moment. If her mother were still alive then maybe she would be able to tell her what the right thing to do was or at least offer her some advice.

By the time Vanora finally came home from her shift at the tavern, Breck had put all the children down for the night and was lounging by the fireplace after breaking into a bit of the wine that Bors kept on hand. Vanora looked tired upon first coming through the door but then once she saw that Breck had laid out both a plate of bread and cheese and a glass of wine, she brightened considerably.

"It is decided – I shall never marry Bors for I am going to marry you instead." She said as she sat at the table and propped her feet up, making Breck giggle. "When I come home to Bors, the children are running a muck and he has usually drank all the wine. This is a most welcome change." She added. "You managed to come out of this day unscathed then?"

Breck wanted to laugh at the irony of her question. Physically, she had survived the day with the brood of children; mentally, however, was a completely different subject. "Aye, the brood kept me preoccupied." She confirmed. "What of work? Was the tavern eventful?" Breck asked as she stood to join her friend at the table.

"As always." Vanora confirmed. "I had a moment to speak with Jols, however. He said that you seemed unwell this morning when seeing the men off and wished for an update if I had one. He seemed quite concerned." Breck sighed and nodded, toying with her goblet of wine for a moment before taking a long sip. "I will not force you into revealing your secrets, but should you need an ear or a shoulder, mine are there."

Breck decided that if there was any woman that she could go to for advice about a Sarmatian knight (or two) that there was no one better then Vanora. She had been with Bors for years and had eleven children with the man; she would be the perfect person to vent to. "I am very troubled as of late, if I am to be honest." She finally said.

"About?" Vanora prodded.

Breck sighed and rubbed her forehead before giving her a helpless look. "Men." She finally admitted.

Vanora immediately had a knowing, if not excited, look on her face and hid her grin behind her wine goblet, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat. "Ah, it is as I thought." She said matter-of-factly. "I have been waiting for you to approach me about such a subject. Tell me – which man troubles you?"

"Still speaking honestly, there are two." Vanora's eyebrow quirked up at hearing that. "The first is Gawain." Breck revealed.

"I predicted it might be." Vanora said with a nod. "Continue."

Breck sighed and shook her head. "I am attracted to him, I know this with great certainty. But the only other male I have harbored such feelings for was when I was only a young girl and these are quite different – I haven't any clue what the feelings I have mean. Do I feel love? Do I feel lust?" She began to ramble. "He is handsome and a good man and I enjoy being in his company, but if I pursue a romantic relationship am I required to marry him? And furthermore should I take charge and be the pursuer or should I wait to be the pursuee? And atop all of these facts, I still cannot decide if I wish to involved myself in such a relationship with him, especially when I have no decided how long I wish to linger here."

Breck had said all of this very rapidly and Vanora began laughing, holding her hands up. "Slow down, friend, you are sending my head into a tizzy."

"Forgive me." Breck said with a blush.

Vanora took a gulp of her wine and then leaned her elbows on the table, facing her with a thoughtful expression. "Gawain may have a slightly questionable history, but he is indeed a good man. Yet, speaking truthfully, as long as you are questioning both the length of your stay in the village and the true nature of your feelings, I strongly suggest that you do not pursue any form of romantic relationship with him." Vanora suggested. "The men have been made aware of how much Arthur cherishes you – if you were to involve yourself in a heady, uncertain relationship with one of his men then it could hurt many people, including Arthur."

Breck took in her words with a thoughtful expression. "I am horrible – not once in all of my musings have I taken Arthur into consideration." She said with a groan, putting her face in her hands. "I never wish to cause him any hurt."

"I know this." Vanora said. "And I believe Gawain does as well. I am not blind, I see the way he watches you and I believe I am not the only one. The man cares for you, though the level of his affection still remains to be seen. As for what you feel for him?" She asked with a shrug. "If it be love, I think you will know. I knew the moment I was in love with Bors – it was all I could do to keep breathing when he was away from me like he is now. It still pains me to think of him never returning to me." She admitted.

Breck nodded and took a moment to consider what it would feel like if she were to never see Gawain again. She would be sad, that she knew for a fact, but the blow would not hold the same devastation that it would if it were Arthur that was taken from her. As horrible as it felt to think it, Breck had the feeling that while she might not be able to forget the memory of the handsome knight she had befriended at Hadrian's Wall, her life would move on if he were no longer in this world.

"Now, what of this other man?" Vanora asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

Breck frowned and picked at the table. "This is where my confusion truly lies as of this day." She said. "The other man is Tristan."

Vanora could not have been more surprise if Breck had told her she had eloped with Lancelot and was pregnant with his child. The widening of her eyes was almost comical and she seemed to be at a loss of words as she was silent for a long moment. "Tristan?" She asked. "Truly?"

"Tristan. Truly." Breck echoed before adding quickly, "though he not necessarily the same as my predicament with Gawain."

"Go on." Vanora said, now greatly interested.

"Tristan is…_maddening_." Breck finally said with a heave. "From the moment we met he has regarded me like the dirt beneath his shoe and until this night past I believed myself to loathe the man entirely. He has provided me no cause to think on him with positivity and I know with all certainty that the man does not care for me in the slightest." She said forcefully. "And yet today I have found myself thinking on him in ways I never dreamed I would. I find myself thinking him handsome and…" she trailed off, hiding her face. "When he was stood behind me this night past I could…_feel _him. He sent my nerves in all sorts of ways and it was difficult to even catch my breath in his presence." Breck revealed before looking to Vanora again. "Always he appears tuned out of the world around but yet when we argued last he showed me emotions like never before. He was almost…passionate, but in his own right."

Vanora was staring at her with a stunned expression and cleared her throat when Breck didn't speak for a long moment. "I believe you know this already, but it seems that what you feel for Tristan is lust. Or rather, lust at this moment." Vanora said with a wide grin.

Breck frowned at her in confusion. "Meaning?"

The older redhead nodded. "Allow me to confide in you a secret of mine." She said, leaning closer. "The way you describe how you feel towards Tristan?" She asked, making Breck nod. "It is one and the same how I felt for Bors in the beginning."

This revelation shocked Breck to her core and she had to sit back, her eyes turning to the fire as she gulped. Could it be? Could these things that she felt for Tristan be the start of something much bigger then what she was prepared for? She had to admit to herself that Tristan affected her much more then Gawain did; where the golden-haired Sarmatian was concerned, Breck felt comfortable and at ease with the man she'd formed a friendship with. But Tristan? He was the only man she had ever known that could make her feel murderous with anger one moment and then lustful in the next. She knew absolutely nothing about him other then the fact that Tristan thought she was nothing but a nuisance, and yet, she could not help these new feelings for him. It seemed the more that she fought them, the more they refused to be ignored.

"Do you think me foolish?"

"No, I think you insane." Vanora said honestly. "Yet we cannot always help the things we feel, Breck." After she said that, the woman stood from her seat with a long stretch and yawned. "I turn in now – I am quite exhausted. I hope our conversation has eased some of your frustrations."

"Some, aye." Breck answered with a nod, still gazing into the fire.

"I only remind you now to remember these words – you must tread carefully where the men are concerned, for your sake and for the sake of Arthur." She said in finished before saying her parting words and then shutting herself in the bedroom.

The younger of the two redheads turned her gaze back to the fire and finished off her wine in a long gulp. She was surprised at herself for having opened up to Vanora about her attraction to the two Sarmatians but felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders now that she had confided in someone about it. Breck thought about all of the things that Vanora had said and found herself hoping with all of her being that she _wouldn't _begin harboring stronger affections for Tristan. The man had could hardly stand to be around her and had told her himself that she was only a nuisance to him – it seemed a foolish thing to lay her heart so carelessly into the hands of someone that would only throw it away.

_Both of them be damned_, Breck thought as she moved to make a bed next to the fire and settled down the night. _I will not allow myself to fall for either man. _

But even as she nodded to herself with the stern thoughts in her head, a small part of her wondered if either of them, wherever they were at that moment, was thinking of her as well.

* * *

**A/N: Where have all of my faithful reviewers gone? Sad face. Show me the love!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

By the fourth day of being away from Arthur and his Sarmatians, her conversation with Vanora had been pushed to the back of her mind and Breck had been able to continue about her daily life with less stress and with more of a bounce in her step. It was a great relief to carry out her chores without having to worry about a run in with either Tristan or Gawain and she reveled in the break from all of the testosterone that she was normally surrounded by. She and Vanora had reached a new level of trust after their conversation and Breck found herself looking up to her as a mother figure, despite Vanora not being that much older then her. It was a nice change to have a female that she could go to for problems, as she was sure that speaking to Arthur about such subjects would be highly uncomfortable for both of them.

Seeing as the stables had been void of the horses for the past four days, there was no work to be done there and Jols had given both she and Devran the time off to do what they wished. While Breck had been spending the majority of the past few days babysitting Vanora's brood of children (and making sure they didn't set the town on fire), Breck decided to take advantage of her freedom on this day and snuck out just after dawn to collect Lugh and take him out for a much needed ride.

There was not a large amount of people out in streets just yet, since it was still very early, but Breck kept a watchful eye out regardless. While she had been preoccupied with minding the rowdy brood of children that belonged to Vanora and Bors the past few days, the feeling of being watched had not gone unnoticed to her whenever she took the children out into the village. She knew that the man that had spoken against her, whoever he may be, was keeping an eye on her. It was something that she had been expecting since her friends had been gone for so long and she had taken to keeping herself armed whenever moving about the town. It earned her a lot of curious (if not frightened) looks, but Breck paid no attention to it.

The steed tossed his head in excitement when she walked into the barn, a bow slung over her shoulder and her sword attached to her hip, and she smiled happily, patting his nose and then opening the stall door so that he could join her out on the floor. He trotted around her lazily as she moved to fetch him some breakfast and then gobbled it up happily while she collected her saddle and strapped it to him, tightening the belts around his large body. It took little coaxing to get the reigns into his mouth and she couldn't resist kissing his nose once he was saddled and ready for the ride ahead.

"Ready to ride, love?" She asked in her usual Gaelic. When he whinnied in response, she placed her foot into the stirrup and hoisted herself up onto his back.

She eyed the empty stalls for a moment and sighed, her thoughts turning to her friends. Breck missed them much; more then she originally thought she would. Despite enjoying the company of Vanora for a change, she had to admit that it _was_ dull in the tavern without their obnoxiously loud chatter and she felt rather lonely not having Galahad or Arthur or even Bors at her side. She had grown so used to having them attached to her hip that she had almost forgotten what solitude felt like, and Breck could only hope that no harm had come to any of her friends and that they would return soon.

She wondered where they were at that moment – where they fighting Woads? Where they in the middle of dealings with Rome? Too many times she had watched her father ride out to battle and each instance left her fearful and worried for his safety, unsure what would become of him with each new fight – it was the same now. She thought of each man, even Tristan and Gawain, and said a quick prayer for their safety while she steered Lugh out into the streets.

* * *

Breck had nearly made it to the edge of town when Lugh whinnied loudly, throwing his head back so quickly that she had to hang onto the reigns tightly in order to keep from getting thrown off of him. She frowned, unsure of what had caused him to react in such a way, before she spotted a man holding his hands out defensively in front of him ahead of her horse as her steed canted in agitation. She had been so distracted in her own thoughts that she hadn't even seen him in the street, but as she gazed at the man, she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach that she had seen his face before. Though his name was lost to her at the moment, his dark greasy hair and slightly greasy face were all too familiar and she immediately recognized him to be the man that Tristan had scared off in the tavern earlier that week.

"Forgive me." Breck said slowly, eyeing him apprehensively as he moved closer to her horse. "I did not see you."

"All is forgiven." He said with a wide, lecherous grin. It was obvious that the man did not take very good care of himself and she tightened her grip on Lugh's reigns as his eyes dropped down to the leg that was near him. The glint in his eyes could not mean anything good and she felt all of her senses tune in to him with a sharp alertness, just like they always did when she felt threatened. "Where to on such a fine day?" He asked.

If Lugh had been irritated before, he was downright livid when the man placed a hand on his neck and stepped into his personal space. The man's appendage, along with the rest of his body, was entirely too close to her for her own comfort and both her and Lugh's level of irritation was growing rapidly at his presence. The horse obviously did not like the aura around this man either and he snorted loudly, tossing his head around as he eyed him.

"Sir, I suggest you unhand my horse." She warned him firmly, ignoring his question. "Or you may soon feel his wrath."

The man glanced at Lugh and then slowly retracted his hand, holding them defensively in front of him again. "Your knights," he commented with a strange glint in his eye, "they are gone."

She didn't know why he was telling her this – everyone at the Wall was well aware that Arthur and the Sarmatians were away on duty. "Aye." Breck confirmed slowly.

Her fingers itched to get a hold of her weapon, feeling very uneasy with the current situation, but she resisted the urge. There were plenty of townsfolk all around them and though the man was giving off an unpleasant vibe, she didn't believe him to be stupid enough to attempt to harm her in front of everyone. Lugh whinnied again and Breck glanced to the right, where two other men had begun to approach. She vaguely remembered that they had been the ones he had slunk back to when Tristan had scared him away and her eyebrows furrowed in a hard look as they came closer, equally threatening expressions adorning their faces.

"For what length of time?" The man asked, drawing her attention again.

Breck finally gave in to her temptation and moved one hand to rest on the hilt of her sword. The move did not go unnoticed to any of the men and the greasy one at her left grinned widely, eyeing where her hand rested before his gaze flickered back up to hers. "That remains to be seen." She said. "If you shall excuse me."

She dug her heels into Lugh's flanks with a quick call and it sent him into motion, galloping so abruptly past the three men that they jumped out of the way in fear of getting trampled. Breck did not need to look back in order to see if they were still watching her – she could feel their eyes on her back as Lugh carried her further away from the village and headed towards the mass thickets of trees in the distance. She now suspected without much doubt that these were the men Arthur had been trying to keep away from her, judging by both this encounter and the one in the tavern. It wasn't very likely that they held any sort of skill with a weapon but they were larger then she was. Should she be caught unawares, she suspected that the situation could become very dangerous very quickly.

Despite her earlier resolve, she knew now that it was time to inform Arthur of everything she knew about. Though it was unlikely the conversation would go over well, these men had become more bold in their actions and the situation needed to be addressed. Until then, however, she knew that she needed to keep an even sharper eye out and avoid any further encounters with the men she'd just left in her wake.

* * *

_Kenrick stood before the fire of their small hut, the orange flames making the red hair on his head look like a flame itself. He was finishing the ties of his armor, his eyes pensive and the deep frown on his mouth making the age lines of his face sink even deeper, making him appear even older then what he already was. Once he was finished, he turned his back to the flame and moved his eyes to where she sat. Breck was thirteen, a skinny girl with loads of freckles on her face, shoulders, and arms and deep blue eyes that she had inherited from her long dead mother. Despite the obvious fierceness in of the Saxon, his eyes softened as he gazed upon his daughter and he walked over, smoothing a hand over the red curls that mimicked his own. _

"_It is him. Cerdic." Breck said slowly. "He has come for us." _

"_He has come for _me_." Kenrick corrected. "And I shall meet him." _

"_Father –"_

"_It is God's will." Kenrick cut in sharply, making her fall silent. He dropped down to his knees in front of her, wincing at the pain this caused on his joints in his age, and then placed a hand on her cheek. "Breck, you must always remember this – God has a plan for us all. You must trust Him, for even in our darkest hours He is there to guide us." _

_Breck nodded slowly and then watched as he reached over for the small bowl on the table and handed it to her. She took it, staring at the dark mud that lay in there for a moment before turning her eyes back to her father. He nodded in encouragement and she frowned before dipping her fingers into the cold substance and pressing them onto her father's forehead. _

_With one long stroke from the center of his hairline to the tip of his nose, she made a long dark line, then she moved to make a small dash directly through it on the center of his forehead, effectively making the symbol of a cross on his face. Gathering up more of the mud, she pressed one finger just under the inner-corner of his left eye and followed the curve of the brown orb before straightening the line out at the opposite corner and continuing on until the line stopped at his temple. It was a design that he had worn for every battle he'd partaken in since coming to Ireland and it brought forth the fierce warrior in him completely, the look in his eyes changing as he stood to his full height. She watched as he strode for the door and felt her eyes begin to well up as she watched him go. _

"_Wait!" Breck cried, dashing out of the chair and wrapping her arms around his middle in an attempt to stop him. "I can fight, father. Allow me to aid you! I beg you!" She pleaded with him. _

"_No." Kenrick said firmly, looking down at her over his shoulder. "You must stay." He added. "Promise me." _

_Quite suddenly, she was no longer the skinny thirteen-year-old any longer and it was not Kenrick that she had her arms around. The red hair had become shorter and turned dark, his height was not so towering anymore, and the battle paint she had drawn on him had turned into two tribal tattoos on his cheek bones. It was Tristan in her arms now, but he was looking at her in a way that she had never seen him do so outside of this obvious dream world. He had an almost gentle and loving expression on his face that Breck had never seen before._

_He turned in her arms, facing her now twenty-year-old form completely. "Promise me." He repeated, his accent ringing clear. _

_Breck closed her eyes as he raised a hand to caress her cheek, the touch sending warmth throughout her body even in her dream. "I promise." She whispered. _

_When she opened her eyes again, Tristan had disappeared. In his place was Cerdic, covered in blood and wielding a stained sword. With a malicious grin, he raised his arms high about his head and then imbedded the sword deep into her chest. _

* * *

Breck shot up quickly, her breath coming in deep pants. She glanced around, confused by her surroundings for a moment before she recognized the meadow that she had stumbled across in her ride. She had lain in the grass to relax and had obviously fallen asleep some time ago, since it seemed to be late in the afternoon now. Lugh was grazing nearby and she watched him for a moment before she flopped onto her back again and raised a hand to the cheek, still able to feel the lingering warmth of Tristan's touch from the dream.

This was not the first time that she had dreamed about the last time she saw her father alive, nor was it the first time that Cerdic had made an appearance to murder her, but it _was _the first time that Tristan had shown himself while she slept. It did not necessarily surprise her, since her thoughts had been on him more often then not as of late, and she remembered the way that he had looked at her in the dream. The tenderness on his face was an expression she had absolutely _never _seen from him in real life and her heart pounded in her chest at the memory of it. She knew that he would never look at her in such a way, but she could not help the warmth that it sent through her. And despite her firm resolve to try and resist the attractions she had been feeling towards both he and Gawain, she suddenly found herself wishing for such a look from the scout.

Lugh trotted over and nudged her, gaining her attention. She sighed and hauled herself up, knowing that it was time to get back to the Wall before Vanora of Jols sounded the alarm at her long departure.

While she trotted back to the Wall at a leisurely pace, she began to think on Tristan again. Was her subconscious trying to inform her of the true nature of her attraction towards him? Though the original lustful urges she had felt for him still resided in her, a new warmth was beginning to spread through her at the thought of him. She wondered at the possibility that there was more to him then she had originally gathered; he had, after all, rescued her from the greasy man in the tavern and had been making sure of her safety whenever he was not away on duty. Sure, it had been at Arthur's request and she understood why her friend had picked the scout for the job in the first place – he was stealthy and inconspicuous and Arthur had obviously been trying to hide the fact that he was having her followed. But Breck was well aware of what Tristan was up to now and Arthur could have easily appointed Galahad or Gawain, who would have jumped at the opportunity, the task instead. If Tristan truly was so bothered by it, she was sure he would have found a way around the command.

Breck didn't want to assume anything more, not wanting to get carried away when she didn't know the true facts. Yet the idea to try and be more civil towards Tristan and perhaps even try to befriend him sounded appealing. It wouldn't be an easy task, but it felt like something that could be accomplished if she were to try hard enough.

Now that she was nearing the Wall again, Breck could hear even from how far out she was that there seemed to be quite a commotion taking place in the town. She frowned when she saw that people were scurrying about here and there, shouting in excitement, and she urged Lugh on at a faster pace. Had the Knights returned? Had Arthur come home?

"You there," Breck said as she pulled her horse to a stop by an elderly woman. "What is the commotion?"

"The Knights have returned." She said with a frown, shuffling her way slowly in the direction of the square. Breck smiled and started to send Lugh forward when the woman spoke again. "They say some of the men have been injured, though it is not known who as of yet."

Her smile fell at once and she stared at the woman for only a second before calling for Lugh to take off. She pushed through the crowd, yelling at people to move out of her way, and could see from her perch on top of Lugh that the majority of the crowd was gathered around the Knights' stables. The door leading into the barn itself was shut and in front of it stood Jols and a slightly battered looking Lancelot. The pair of them were trying to be heard over the crowd, obviously attempting to get them to disperse, but the crowd was in such an excitement that their words were falling on deaf ears.

With a scowl and a racing mind at who could possibly be injured, Breck unsheathed her sword and galloped further. "Move! Get on with you!" She yelled out angrily, switching to Gaelic automatically without realizing she had done so. Lugh whinnied and pushed his way through the crowd despite the protests of the citizens around them and Breck continued to bark orders at them. "Move along!" She yelled again. The people around her turned to look at her in confusion at the foreign language and she finally managed to get to the front of the crowd, a fierce look in her eyes. If these people were keeping the men from getting the medical attention they needed, Breck would see to it that the crowd was handled even if she had to see to it herself.

"Get on with you and allow these men to carry out their business. Now!" She growled angrily, finally switching to common-tongue. The crowd began to move at the request of the armed woman that obviously had no qualms at trampling anyone who was in her way, and Lancelot nodded his thanks to her before yanking the door open and striding in. Breck dismounted Lugh and led him through the door, receiving a pat on her back from Jols as he trailed behind them.

The sight that she was greeted with had not been one that she was prepared for – Bors was obviously one of the men injured because he was laid unconscious on one of the benches, badly bleeding, and being tended to by Dagonet. Gawain seemed unscathed, though there was blood on his clothes, hair, and face, while Galahad was currently trying to staunch the flow of blood coming from a large gash on his forehead. With a sinking feeling, she realized that the other injured man was Tristan and that he was clutching his side with a grimace of pain and being support by Arthur, who appeared to have a few minor wounds. Her heart seemed to have dropped into her stomach as she watched the scout for a long moment, wondering how badly he was hurt and if the injury could be life threatening.

"Breck?" Arthur questioned, drawing her attention.

She shook her head, coming back to reality, and she and Arthur shared a quick look before she handed Lugh's reigns over to Jols and then made her way to Dagonet, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The crowd is dispersed." She informed him. "What can I do?" She asked him seriously, eyeing Bors. She wanted very much to see what had happened to Tristan but held off since it was obvious that Bors' injuries were much worse.

Dagonet looked up at her with a serious, but relieved, expression. "Leave for the infirmary, I shall need stations prepared to tend to both Bors and Tristan." He instructed her before nodding to Tristan. "Take him with you, I shall handle Bors."

Breck headed for Arthur and Tristan without another word, now eager to find out how it was that the Sarmatian was injured. He had been shed of his armor and she could see blood adorning the clothes he'd worn underneath, making her frown in concern. Tristan was eyeing her through his curtain of hair as she approached but only gritted his teeth against the pain he was obviously feeling.

"I shall help you take him." Arthur said.

Breck nodded, eyed Tristan for only a split second, and then grabbed a hold of his free arm to drape it around her shoulders. He didn't protest like she thought he would but he let out a hiss of pain as he leaned his weight heavily onto her. She was glad to have Arthur on the other side since she was sure that Tristan would have made the pair of them topple over. She felt Tristan grip onto her shoulder tightly to try and support himself and she moved her arm to wrap around him and steady him.

"What happened?" Breck asked as they made their way from the stables and in the direction of the infirmary.

"A Woad ambush." Arthur told her. "We were attacked whilst resting. We did not know it was coming." He added in an angry tone, clearly upset with the outcome of their journey.

"You are unhurt?" She asked him, looking around Tristan to meet her friend's eyes.

Arthur looked over at her and his expression softened. "Yes. I am well." He informed her. "And I am glad to see you are as well."

Breck thought back to the brief encounter with the men earlier that day and frowned at him. "Aye, however this is a subject we direly need to discuss, friend." Both Arthur and Tristan looked at her with expressions of alarm, but she shook her head quickly before Arthur could say anything in return. "Later." She said.

The crowd parted for them as they made their way to the infirmary and once they were in the small room, Breck released Tristan so that Arthur to get him onto a bed while she moved to get the stations ready for Dagonet. She searched around wildly for needles, thread, medicine – anything that she could remember Dagonet telling her he usually needed in instances like these. She was surprised that she could recall it with such ease but glad that she could be of help to the healer since he currently was working alone.

"Go, Arthur." She heard Tristan say. "I will live."

Breck glanced back and saw Arthur nod once, place a hand on Tristan's shoulder, and then turn his eyes to her. He said a few parting words with his scout before coming over to her with a firm expression on his face. "We will speak soon." He promised her.

"Aye." Breck confirmed.

As soon as Arthur closed the door behind him it was as though he had taken the air out of the room with him. She turned her attention over to Tristan and saw that the Sarmatian was watching her closely through the dark hair falling over his face. With a deep breath, she picked up a few of the supplies she'd gathered and headed over to him to lay them out. His gaze was more unnerving then usual because of the revelations she'd been having about her feelings for him as of late, but she tried to keep her mind on the fact that he was hurt and, despite her lack of experience, she needed to help Dagonet since he'd be preoccupied with Bors. Breck cleared her throat, picking up the vial of liquid that she'd seen Dagonet use to clean cuts, and then turned to Tristan.

"Where are you injured?" She asked him, trying to keep her voice steady.

Tristan gazed up at her for a moment before motioning to his side. "This side." He answered her.

Breck nodded and then moved closer, pressing a hand to his shoulder gently to try and urge him to lie down. His eyes dropped down to where she was touching him for a second before he let her push him onto his back with only slight resistance. He winced as he stretched out onto his back and she shot him an apologetic look before sitting next to his side and uncorking the vial. She paused to reach for a clean cloth and then doused it with the liquid.

"You are a healer?" He asked her, surprising her.

Breck looked at him a bit guiltily. "No." She admitted. He didn't look particularly relieved to hear this but didn't protest as she tried to ascertain the best way to treat him. With a jittery feeling, she realized she'd have to move his shirt out of the way to reach the wound. "I must…" She trailed off, a wild blush coming onto her cheeks as she nodded towards his shirt.

He nodded his consent and she held her breath as she reached for the hem of the cloth, pushing it just out the way enough so that she could find his wound. Once she located it, she noted that the hastily made bandage over it was soaked through with his blood and she grimaced as she pulled it away, revealing a gash below his ribs. It didn't look overly deep and didn't appear to be bleeding too badly anymore, which was a relief, but he still hissed when she pressed the new medicine soaked gauze to his side firmly.

"My apologies." She said, cleaning the wound as he closed his eyes against the sting. His only signal that he had heard her was a nod in her direction. "Are there more wounds?"

"None life threatening." He said, relaxing a bit now that he was growing accustomed to the pressure on his wound.

They fell silent for a long moment while she cleaned the gash and she tried hard not to peek at the skin and the muscles that were currently revealed to her. His physique, though not perfect, she found to be appealing and she glanced at the light smattering of hair that trickled down to his stomach from beneath his shirt for one moment before averting her attention back to the wound. Tristan, once again, was watching her and she fought hard against the blush in her cheeks, not wanting him to learn of the effect he was having on her.

"What happened?" Tristan finally asked.

Breck looked back up at him, taken aback by his question, and pursed her lips. She could have acted like she didn't know what he was talking about but knew that Tristan wouldn't buy it for one second. The fact that he was even interested in what had been going on since he was gone was a pleasant surprise to her and she decided to go ahead and confide in him. "I know of the reason Arthur had you tail me." She said simply. "I cannot recall his name, but the man has not been so secretive as of late."

The only indication that this news had any sort of effect on Tristan was the slight clenching of his jaw, and even then she wasn't sure if it was because of what she had said or because she had just pressed a fresh bandage to his wound.

"Gerland." Tristan confirmed. Breck nodded, remembering that was indeed who the man had introduced himself as. "Is Arthur aware you know?"

"No." She answered with a shake of her head. Breck held Tristan's gaze as they fell silent for a moment and then she offered him a small, genuine smile. "Thank you, Tristan. For all you have done."

If Tristan was going to say anything he was interrupted before he could by the door swinging open again, signaling the arrival of Bors and Dagonet. Breck jumped and both she and Tristan watched as Dagonet entered the infirmary with Bors thrown over his shoulder. Dagonet deposited him on one of the spare beds and began grabbing the numerous supplies Breck had laid out for him. Dagonet regarded them for a moment before inclining his head towards her.

"Many thanks, friend." He said gratefully. "How is his wound?"

"He no longer bleeds, but he may require stitching." She said, eyeing the wound to double check it.

"Does he burn?"

Breck gulped and then slowly reached a hand towards his face. His eyes were trained on her intently as she moved his hair out of the way and she could have sworn that his eyes closed when she pressed her hand against his forehead, but they were open again so quickly that she wasn't sure if she had truly seen it or not. "No." She told Dagonet, snatching her hand away from Tristan's forehead so quickly that it appeared she had been burned.

"Good." Dagonet said. "Are you willing to stitch him?"

"Aye." Breck said before setting to work.

Stitching Tristan's wound brought back a flood of memories of having to do this very thing for her father after his numerous battles and she was able to complete the task quickly and with minimal fuss. They did not speak further now that Dagonet was there and as her fingers brushed over his skin, she noted that Tristan had tensed up considerably. She tried to ignore the fact as she smoothed some salve over the freshly stitched wound and then helped him into a sitting position, which he obliged her with minimal fuss. He held his shirt up for her wordlessly as she wrapped a bandage around his waist to protect the work she'd just finished, but his eyes remained forward now.

"He is done, Dag." Breck called as she stood up and went to clean her hands, glad that she could put some space between her and Tristan.

"I cannot thank you enough." He said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his hand over his forehead as he worked on Bors.

"How fares Bors?" She asked, coming to his side.

"He has lost much blood, but I believe he shall live. It will take some time to recover." Dagonet answered with a nod, looking less stressed now that his friend was getting the medical attention he needed.

"I shall go and inform Vanora, then." She said, patting Dagonet on the back. She glanced over towards Tristan, who had slowly stood and was fixing his clothes with his back to her. Breck hadn't really expected him to express his gratitude for her work but it still stung a bit that he didn't acknowledge it in the slightest.

With one last glance down at Bors, Breck decided to take her leave to find her friend and update her on the status of her lover, feeling a bit wounded over Tristan's lack of appreciation but with fingertips that still tingled from having touched the handsome Sarmatian.

* * *

**A/N: Yay, my readers are still with me! Its great to see you all still hanging in and I greatly appreciate all the feedback I get. I know I update very fast, but its hard not to because (CONFESSION TIME) I'm actually about three chapters ahead of what I'm posting and the finished chapters just sit there and taunt me until I finally cave and post them. I try to pace myself so I can give everyone a chance to be on the same page, but it's just impossible! I've said it before and I'll say it again – I'm OBSESSED with this story! And I think it's shaping up to be some of my best work to date. **

**Oh, and I know that the romantic musings are getting old and, believe me, they're even starting to make me gag a little bit. But as of this particular juncture in our story, this is Breck's biggest dilemma. Don't worry – action is coming! **


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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Gawain and Galahad all but pounced on her the second that she stepped out of the infirmary. The pair of them had obviously been waiting outside, eager to hear news of their comrades but not wanting to get in Dagonet's way, and they appeared to have come straight from the stables because both still were covered in blood and grime. She noticed that there was also a bit of a crowd loitering around but they were eyeing the two warriors with something akin to apprehension, not wanting to get too close to the knights that looked so fearsome at that particular moment.

"Are they well? Will they live?" Gawain asked with a deep frown on his face.

"Tristan is well and Dagonet believes Bors will recover soon enough. He tends to him now." Breck answered with a nod. Both Sarmatians immediately looked relieved and patted each other on the backs in a brotherly way. "What of you pair? Any injuries Dagonet should know of?" She asked them pointedly, trailing her eyes over both of them to check for any signs they were hurt.

"None." Galahad said, despite the large gash on his forehead.

"And you, Gawain?" Breck asked, turning her attention back to Gawain.

"I am fine." He assured her. He eyed her for a moment and then motioned to her clothes. "The blood does not belong to you, correct? There is nothing we should know of?" He asked.

She glanced down at her attire and frowned when she saw that some of Tristan's blood was staining her clothes, knowing it would take a lot of effort to get the stains out. "Tis Tristan's." She answered, wiping at some of it even though she knew it would do no good.

Breck let out a heavy sigh then and rubbed her forehead for a moment, feeling drained. This day was turning out to be quite a troubling one. First there had been the encounter with Gerland and now there were the injuries to Bors and Tristan. She knew that her trip to Vanora's would not make the day any better, since she was sure the woman would be an emotional wreck by the time she arrived, and then of course there was the impending conversation that she needed to have with Arthur about the man that had been following her, which would surely set her friend off. She was going to be in need of a strong drink soon enough, that much was certain.

"Breck?" Gawain asked, moving closer to her with a worried expression. "Are you well?"

The handsome man's proximity was doing nothing to calm her nerves but she did her best to ignore it and offered him a small smile. "Aye." She answered. "The day has been a long and troubling one, that is all." Gawain still looked concerned but didn't pry any further. Galahad, on the other hand, had moved off to collect the armor they had shed while waiting and appeared to be giving them their space. "Where is Vanora?"

"Arthur collected her from the tavern. I believe you shall find her at home." Gawain answered.

"Thank you." She said. Breck regarded him for a moment and then placed a hand on his broad shoulder. The touch did not make him tense, as it had Tristan. Instead, he seemed to relax under her hand. "I am glad to see you in good condition." She said sincerely. "The both of you." She added, smiling over at Galahad, who nodded his thanks to her.

"Worried for us, were you?" Gawain asked, now smiling down at her. She was sure she would have been affected by the look more if there weren't smatterings of blood and dirt all over his face just then. It was almost comical how contradicting it was from the warm look he was giving her.

"Always." She admitted, causing Gawain to have a pleased look on his face. "I must see to Vanora now. She will be waiting for an update on Bors."

"Allow me to escort you." Gawain offered.

Breck moved her hand from his shoulder and shook her head. "Many thanks, but I can see myself there. You and Galahad are in need of washing before you frighten the town half to death." She informed him a bit teasingly.

Gawain smirked at her words and stared at her for a long moment before he reached out a hand to her face. She froze, unsure of what he was doing, but then couldn't help the fluttering of her eyes when his fingertips swiped across her left cheek. The touch, mixed with how close he was standing to her, made her stomach flip over pleasantly since she could not recall being doted on in such a way. In the next moment it reminded her of the dream she'd had about Tristan and she found herself leaning closer to his touch, wondering if this is what it would feel like if the scout were to touch her in such a way. She tensed as she realized what she was thinking about and pulled away from Gawain quickly. The frown that crossed his features was immediate, but he concealed it just as fast, dropping his hand down to his side.

"Blood was on your cheek." He said quietly, his eyes watching her attentively.

"Th-thank you." She said, her cheeks turning pink.

Breck glanced towards Galahad to see what his reaction to the moment was and noticed that he had suddenly become very interested with the armor in his hands. She had momentarily forgotten about the people loitering around the infirmary and cringed when she saw that many people were whispering behind their hands and eyeing her and Gawain. Galahad had told her that there were already rumors about her and the golden-haired Sarmatian and now she knew that they would only get worse from the display the townsfolk had just seen.

"I take my leave now. Gawain, Galahad." She said before hurrying away from the two knights without a backwards glance.

* * *

_Imbecile, imbecile, imbecile!, _she chastised herself as she made her way to Vanora's home. Breck kicked at a rock roughly, watching as it went flying away from her, before a deep frown crossed over her features.

To put it lightly, Breck felt absolutely rotten. She had been suspicious of Gawain's intentions towards her from the beginning and it was becoming glaringly obvious that the knight did not want just friendship from her. What happened back at the infirmary had been the first time that Gawain had been so openly affectionate and the look in his eyes had been unmistakable – he had not tried to hide the longing behind his bright blue orbs. Any other woman, no, probably _every_ unmarried woman in town, would have given their left arm to be in the position she had just been in. And what had she done? She had immediately begun comparing him to Tristan. Tristan! The man that loathed her, the man that constantly was annoyed by her presence, the man that barely spoke to her if not to argue.

Breck felt like a fool, she felt mortified, and she hated herself for the way her actions had affected Gawain. Despite her trepidations at becoming involved with either man, she knew that the safer choice of the two, if she had to make one, was Gawain; he was handsome, kind, and a good man. She simply did not understand why her affections, which had originally lain with Gawain, had now begun to shift over to a man that had no feelings towards her but resentment.

Breck was finally able to put a hold on her internal self-loathing when she reached Vanora's house. The house was deathly quiet on the inside but some of the older kids had been waiting on the outside with scared and impatient looks on their young faces. The moment that they spotted her walking up to the house, they jumped up and came running towards her.

"Is father well?" Three asked, a concerned look on his face. "Arthur claimed you would know."

Breck rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded. "He lives." She told him.

The children in front of her relaxed, visibly relieved by her news, and then she motioned them to follow her inside. Arthur and Vanora were sitting at the table when she walked in, Arthur holding one of the woman's hands and apparently trying to ease her worries, while Vanora's litter of children were scattered about the room. The moment that they saw her, Vanora was out of the chair and pushing through her brood of children to stand in front of Breck and grasp her hands, a wild look in her eyes.

"My lover, does he live?" Vanora asked, her cheeks tearstained already.

"Aye, he does." She answered.

Vanora immediately began sobbing and threw her arms around Breck tightly, crying against her shoulder in relief. Breck returned the hug a bit awkwardly, stroking the woman's hair in what she hoped was a comforting manner, and looked at Arthur over the woman's shoulder. He looked just as relieved as all of the children around him and stood from his chair slowly to join them, resting a hand on each woman's back with an increasingly large smile on his handsome face.

"God is with us on this day." He mused, smiling at Breck gently. "We might have lost two good men if not for the good fortune He has bestowed upon us."

Breck nodded and tightened her arms around Vanora. The words that Vanora had said their first night together suddenly came rushing back to her; Vanora had described what it felt like whenever Bors was away from her on duty and how much it pained her to think of losing him – her love for him was never more apparent to Breck then it was in this moment as the older redhead clung to her and sobbed for her lover. Breck recalled her own moment of panic when she had realized that Tristan was the other injured man and wondered at how her heart seemed to have fallen into her own stomach. Was this the sort of feeling Vanora had described to her?

As though reading her mind, Vanora suddenly whispered in her ear, "How fares Tristan?"

"He is well." Breck answered with a nod.

Vanora finally pulled away from the hug and wiped her face, a half-attempted smile working its way onto her pretty features. "I will kill him myself." She finally said with a watery laugh as she dried her tears. "The stupid fool."

"As I am sure he will be expecting." Arthur chuckled before coming to stand next to Breck. "I wish I could stay at your side in this hard time, however, Breck and I have business to attend to. You are fit to be on your own?" He asked.

"Yes." Vanora said, waving them off before drying her face further on her skirt. "I shall be fine. Go, we will meet again later."

Arthur nodded and then led Breck out of Vanora's home with a hand on her back. He had washed the blood off of his face at some point but was still wearing the majority of his blood-stained armor. More then one person shot the commanding man a wary look and scurried out of his way as he approached. Breck also noticed that a lot of people were still whispering about her and resisted the urge to scowl at them and tell them to mind their own business. When Arthur finally rounded on her just outside of the building that housed both his quarters and the Round Table, he had a look of consternation on his face.

"Speak." He commanded, crossing his arms.

Much like with Tristan, she briefly considered playing dumb to avoid the storm that was surely to come with Arthur's anger, but decided it wouldn't do any good because he would be able to see directly through her lie. "I know of Gerland."

His frown, if possible, deepened. "For how long?"

"Over a week – since you departed for the mission before this one past." She admitted.

"And how did you come to discover this?" He questioned. His jaw was tensed, a sign that he was getting angry, and though most of his demeanor seemed calm she could see the brewing fire in his eyes. What she was about to say was not going to make anything better.

"Vanora and I discussed the matter after you rode out. She wished for me to be better prepared should anything happen, but neither of us was aware of who he actually was. I did not suspect it was Gerland until I began to encounter him myself. Tristan confirmed to me that it was, indeed, him." Breck said quietly.

"And you said nothing to me of this?" He half yelled, his tone harsh and angry as he finally let lose what he was feeling inside. A few people around them jumped in surprise, obviously not used to seeing the Roman lose control of his emotions in such a way, and quickly averted their attention elsewhere to avoid being on the receiving end of his wrath.

"I did not wish to cause you more concern." Breck said quickly. "They have been minor incidents, Arthur, and they have never put me in immediate danger. I swear it."

"I care not." Arthur growled. "What did he do?"

"Arthur –"

"What – did – he – do?" He asked again, this time leaving no room for argument.

Breck sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. "The first time he merely attempted to buy me drink but Tristan frightened him away. The second time was only today as I went for a ride – he placed himself in front of my horse as a means of stopping me. Both were only brief encounters." She explained to him.

Arthur heaved and uncharacteristically ran a hand through his mop of wavy hair, turning his eyes to the sky for a moment before looking back down at her. "These are the exact incidents I was attempting to ward off. Breck, you _must _come to me when such events occur. You have no idea the power a man can possess when he desires something so greatly." He said sternly.

Breck knew without a doubt that she was lucky to have a friend that was so watchful over her, especially when not many in her position would be able to boast the same thing, but she felt her annoyance grow at his words. If there was _anyone_ in the world who knew the power of a man possessed, it was she – her entirely family had been slain because of the cruelty and maliciousness of one man seeking to avenge what he considered a betrayal. "Quite the contrary, old friend, I do." She finally said flatly, making him quirk an eyebrow at her. "Do not think me ungrateful of your _over _protectiveness, for I am aware of my luck at having you as my ally." She started to say. "Yet how many times must I inform you I am capable of handling my own affairs? _I _was the one ensuring my own survival these years past and I am capable of continuing to do so. I do not need to be coddled as though I am naught but an insolent child."

Arthur regarded her for a moment and then wrapped his much larger hand around her arm, dragging her along behind him. She protested and tried to free her arm from his grasp but Arthur was much larger then she was and her struggling earned her nothing but the tightening of his grip. Once he had successfully dragged her into his quarters, he slammed the door behind him and then wordlessly moved to his trunk to begin rifling around in it. Breck rubbed her arm, glaring at her friend's back, and resisted the urge to throw something at him.

"I have never known you to be so barbaric, Arthur." She growled, seriously considering running for the door but knowing he'd only come after her and would probably be twice as angry.

Arthur finally straightened up and stalked over to her, towering over her as he shoved something into her hands. She paused, glancing at the old and crumpled looking parchment that was now in her hands, before looking up at Arthur in confusion. "Read it." He commanded.

Breck eyed him for one more moment before turning her attention back to the paper in her hands. It was obvious from its worn corners that it was relatively aged and she unfolded it carefully, mindful not tear it since it was obviously important enough for Arthur to have kept in his possession for as long as he had. The writing on the paper, though not as bold as it had been upon first delivery, was one that she had seen before and Breck's jaw dropped as she realized who had written it. In that instant, she seemed to forget how to breathe and she looked up at Arthur in stunned silence. He nodded at her and then motioned for her to read the letter.

_Artorius Castor –_

_Many years have passed since our last meeting, young Artorius, and though this letter may be causing you to feel confusion, it is an important matter of which I write to you about this day. Your memories may not be able to recall myself, but I trust that it may recall my beloved daughter and your dear friend - Breck. Do not fear, she is well and safe. _

_I write to you now to remind you that I am a wanted man, though I am assured you know of this already. The life that I dedicated to war has earned me more enemies then most will have in a lifetime and though I and your father know myself to be a changed man, there are many in this world who see me as no different from my bloodthirsty ancestors. My daughter and I are safe now, tucked away in the countryside, but I fear this will not always continue to be. _

_As my daughter grows, it is impossible to overlook the vengeance that resides within her. She is, after all, her father's daughter and of Saxon lineage. I wish so greatly to cater to the girl she is, yet the warrior blood in her grows thicker with each passing day. When my time on this Earth has come to its end, which I fear it will soon, I know that my dear Breck will leave this place and seek the revenge she so avidly yearns for. Yet there is still softness in her heart, young Artorius, only a small fragment that she reserves for her father and for you, her dearest friend. When the time comes to leave, I know that someday she will come searching for you. _

_This is what I ask of you now – protect her, Artorius. My daughter has seen too many hardships in her young age. She deserves hope and trust and friendship. I know she will find this in you. I wish only to see her be made safe and I know in my heart that if there is another in the world that wishes for it too, it is you. _

_I cannot say how much longer my life may be or at who's hands will cease my existence, but my heavy heart rests easier knowing she has a friend in you. And I trust that when the time comes, you will know the right thing to do. _

_-Kenrick_

Her hands were shaking by the time she finished reading the letter and Breck stared at the writing before her with wide eyes and a heaving chest. "Wh-when…when did you receive this?" She finally managed to ask. Her father had been in contact with Arthur? How many times had they corresponded? Where there more letters?

"Almost ten years past." Arthur said quietly. "Based on your accounts when you first arrived, I presume it was sent some two or three years before he passed on."

It had been years since Breck had last cried, but as she read the handwriting of her father again, something she had not gazed upon in nearly seven years, they began to flow freely from her eyes. Arthur was silent now as he stood in front of her, probably shocked to see her so emotional, and when she finally looked up at him, he pulled her into a tight and comforting hug. Everything that she had held in, the anger and the sadness and the loneliness, all came pouring out and she finally allowed herself to weep as she hadn't since she was thirteen years old.

"Do you understand now?" Arthur asked gently in her ear as his hand ran soothingly over her back. "I promised him – I promised your father and I promised God that should you be brought back to me again, no harm would ever find you. It is a promise I have never forgotten and one that I intend to see filled."

"He knew he was being hunted." Breck said into his shoulder as she tried to get a handle on her emotions. "And I was never informed it."

"He did not wish you to know." Arthur responded, pulling back so he could meet her tearful gaze.

"Why then did you feign surprised when I told you of his death?" She accused. "You knew it would come to be."

Arthur shook his head. "I never wanted to believe the pair of you could be found, especially not by Cerdic." He defended.

"He lied to me." She said, shaking her head.

"No, he only wanted a normal life for you, one without fear – a wish that I share." He explained. His words made her see reason and she finally nodded slowly, wiping the tears from her face. "Yet I am no fool." Arthur continued. "I see you, Breck. Your vengeance cannot be forgotten so easily and a normal life will never be possible until you see your enemy defeated. Your father told me I would know the right thing to do and I finally have my answer." He stated before giving her a fierce look. "When the time comes, I will help you defeat Cerdic."

His words stunned her. Never before had Breck considered asking anyone for their help in her quest for revenge, nor would she have thought of accepting had anyone actually offered. But Arthur was her friend, her closest companion, and the greatest warrior in Briton and despite his trepidations concerning her plans for Cerdic, he wanted to help her. If there was any person that Breck would want by her side for this mission, it would be Arthur. Finally, she managed a smile, and pulled him back into a hug.

"Thank you, Arthur." He squeezed her for good measure before they finally released one another. Breck decided that if Arthur was willing to help her in this matter, then it was time she did something to appease him in return. "And until that time comes, I shall stay with you at Hadrian's Wall." She promised.

Arthur looked glad to hear this and nodded his in gratitude. "Thank you, friend."

They fell silent for a long moment and then Breck finally chuckled a bit, running a hand through her hair. "Do you necessitate alcohol as badly as I require it?"

Arthur laughed loudly, the tension finally easing out of the both of them, and nodded. "More then you know." He said before placing a friendly hand on her shoulder and leading her out of his room. "Let us drink alone tonight." He requested. "It is not often we are allowed to do so these days."

She nodded her agreement. "Aye."

Breck had always respected Arthur, but now she held him to the highest possible regard. She had only ever thought him over protective because of his own brotherly affections towards her but now that she knew of his motivations for it, she could only wonder at how amazing of a man he really was. He had made a promise to her father, despite years of being separated from her and with no way of knowing if they would ever be reunited. And knowing that the two men she admired most had made this pact made her feel like a small part of her wounded heart had started to mend itself.

"Oh," she said as an after thought while they made their way back through the halls to locate some alcohol to indulge in, "and I suppose you may call off Tristan now that I know the face of my enemy. I know he must tire of having to follow after me." She said with a laugh.

Arthur only looked down at her in confusion, an eyebrow quirked high as he seemed to try to determine if she was joking or not. "I relieved Tristan of that command nearly a fortnight ago, friend." He said.

And just when she thought that she couldn't possibly be surprised anymore that day, Breck turned her stunned expression up to her friend, unable to believe her ears.

Tristan had been following her on his own accord all this time.

* * *

**A/N: I am THRILLED with the feedback I'm getting. You guys are amazing! **

**And you totally thought Arthur was going to ravish her, didn't you? No dice, my friends. There won't be any hanky-panky between Arthur and Breck! **


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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Breck did not have many opportunities to spend time with the knights for the next three days – the horses required a lot of attention thanks to the long journey they had just been on, she was practically living with Vanora to help watch after the brood of children while Bors recovered in the infirmary under the watchful eye of Dagonet, and on top of it all, she was still managing to squeeze in training with her four students. The redhead was so busy that she barely had time eat, let alone drink and socialize with her friends in the tavern at the end of the day.

Tonight, however, would finally be a night where they all could relax and spend time together – today was Arthur's birthday. And that night, the entire town would be congregating in the square to celebrate.

In what many had thought would end up being a huge mistake, Lancelot was appointed the one in charge of arranging the festivities for the evening. Though Arthur apparently preferred to keep the celebration to a minimum, usually only involving his men and a few musicians, Lancelot had decided that his commanding officer and the rest of the men needed a good party to get them out of the ill mood Bors' close brush with death had put them in. Once he'd been given his orders, he had immediately arranged to have a large musical group play, ordered mass amounts of alcohol from both the tavern at the Wall and from a few nearby towns, and then began inviting anyone he came into contact with. From there, word had spread like wildfire and before anyone knew it, the entire town was abuzz with the upcoming event.

All day long the town was active – children ran about excitedly, helping the adults of the town in whatever way they could as they began setting up tables and banners and any sort of decoration you could imagine in the square, while the knights themselves had begun hauling in barrels of ale and double-stacking them in one fifteen-foot-long row to the side of the make-shift stage that had been hastily built for the musicians. The sound of music and laughter could already be heard as the musicians prepared for the evening and guests began to indulge in the ale a bit earlier then expected, a hint of what was surely to come that night. According to Jols, massive parties like the one they were about to attend did not happen often and he had warned her that the night would most likely be one for the record books.

Breck had wanted very badly to involve herself in what was taking place in the square throughout the day, even though she knew the best of the party was still to come. Try as she might, she simply could not remember ever being invited to a party, let alone one of this magnitude. Birthdays had been unimportant and were not celebrated when she had lived amongst the Saxons and by the time she and her father had moved to Ireland, they had all but forgotten what days their own fell on. She wanted very badly to be there to witness every part of it, but since Galahad and Gawain had required their steeds for most of the day to haul in the ale from the neighboring villages, Jols had given her strict instructions to stay in the stables and see to the two horses upon the knights' return. Only then was she relieved of her duties and free to join in on the merriment.

She managed to pass the day by tending to the horses that _were _present and sprucing up Arthur's saddle as her gift to him for his birthday, though the commotion outside seemed to taunt her the entire day. By the time Gawain and Galahad had finally returned, looking a little worse for wear from having indulged some ale on the trip home, she was about ready to strangle them out of impatience. Their punishment was to help her get the horses settled for the night and the sun was on the verge of setting when the three of them finally exited the stables.

"I have never attended a party such as this." Breck said, rubbing her hands together excitedly.

"It shall be quite a celebration." Galahad confirmed before offering his arm. "Shall we change?" Breck nodded and slipped her arm through his, letting her lead the way.

"I shall reserve us a table!" Gawain called to them, heading in the direction of the square.

Breck watched him go for a moment and then turned her attention back forward. Galahad had noticed and quirked an eyebrow at her, to which she shook her head. "Say nothing." She commanded brusquely, making him grin knowingly. She had to admit that she still felt guilty for having wounded Gawain's feelings three days before. He had obviously brushed the incident away since he hadn't been treating her any different, but she still felt like a rotten person for her actions.

The sun had gone down and the streets were deserted by the time she and Galahad had changed and reconvened to head towards the square. They could already hear the ruckus taking place in the square and she could see her own excitement mirrored on Galahad's handsome face. She'd forgone her usual attire, and her weapons, and opted for one of her nicer dresses. Galahad whistled when he saw her and she rolled her eyes, slipping her arm into his again once she was close enough.

"You are a vision."

"And you are a flatterer." She accused.

"Is it possible to accept compliments?" He asked in exasperation, making her laugh. "Shall you dance with Gawain tonight?" He changed the subject, wagging his eyebrows at her.

Breck rolled her eyes at him in exasperation. "We shall see, shan't we?"

The square looked completely different from how it usually did – instead of merchants and carts and the sounds of blacksmiths hard at work, there were fire dancers, couples joyously dancing to the fast paced music, and food and drink as far as the eye could see. She grinned at the sight, jumping out of the way when a drunken man nearly tumbled into her, and then snickered to herself when he pulled himself back up and chugged the remainder of his drink. A mug of ale was pressed into her hand before she could even think to ask for one and she and Galahad shared a smile before clinking their mugs together.

"To tonight." Breck said in cheers.

"To friends." Galahad added before they both took a long drink.

"Breck! Galahad!" Gawain called, standing up on a chair and waving his arms wildly to catch their attention. "This way!"

"Come." Galahad said before grasping her hand and leading her through the crowd.

Clearly, most of the townsfolk had begun their party long before the celebration had actually been slated to begin – all around her were inebriated men and women, some making her avert her gaze in embarrassment because of how badly they were in need of some privacy, and she had to mind her step not to trample over the multiple children running freely around the party. The Sarmatians had claimed a large table not far from the ale and cheered when they spotted her and Galahad. Gawain already had two mugs of ale in his hands, while next to him sat Jols and Dagonet who both looked to be in good spirits as they ate their food and talked animatedly. Across from them she was happy to see Bors, who despite his multiple bandage-covered wounds and slightly pale skin-tone, had been released from the infirmary and was drinking heartily. Vanora and their brood of children were at his side and he was conversing with someone that appeared to have come to congratulate him on his recovery. Tristan, she noted with a hard thud of her heart that she valiantly tried to ignore, was sitting on Jols' other side and observing all of the commotion.

Breck side-stepped around Galahad when he and Gawain started singing some horribly off-key version of a song she didn't recognize and made her way to Bors when the man he was talking to walked away. Without caring what would be said against her, she leaned down to hug the burly man from behind, catching him off guard.

"Words cannot express how it pleases me to see you in good health, friend." She said over the music, feeling quite joyful due to her surroundings and squeezing him for good measure. "I did not anticipate to see you on the loose so soon."

Bors smiled at her over his shoulder when she moved away a fraction and reached up to pat one of the arms she had wrapped around him. "I have only been released for drinkin', not fightin'." He said with a shrug. "Thank you for the well wishes, my friend. And many thanks for watchin' my brood." He said with a fond expression on his face.

She wasn't sure if the look was genuine or due to the drink in his hand, but she smiled regardless. Then Breck released him and poked him in the side playfully. "Your stay in the infirmary has not turned you docile?" She asked mockingly.

"Oy!" He protested, pointing a finger at her in warning.

She laughed and then turned to Vanora, patting the woman's back in a friendly greeting before straightening up and eyeing the rest of the group at the table. Dagonet caught her eye and lifted his ale to her, the normally reserved man tilting his head to her in a friendly nod before knocking back a good portion of his drink. She began to understand why Jols had warned her of this night – apparently, events such as these were the times when everyone, even the most reserved people, threw caution to the wind and allowed themselves to truly have a fun time.

Her eyes turned to Tristan, who was on the other side of Jols, and saw that he was watching her interact with the people around them now. She had not seen him these past three days, suspecting he was avoiding her, and as much as she hated to admit it she had missed him a bit. He appeared to have cleaned himself up a bit for the night and she noted that it only increased his attractiveness. Though he didn't make a move to greet her, Breck offered him a small smile before the increasing noise of the crowd around them drew her attention away.

Everyone at the table quickly realized that the crowd was cheering uproariously and she craned her neck to see what the commotion was before grinning and joining in. The man of the hour, Arthur, was being led through the crowd by a very fancily dressed Lancelot. She couldn't hear what Lancelot was yelling to make the crowd part but he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the attention while Arthur just waved modestly and let his friend lead him up to the stage. Lancelot immediately silenced the musicians and then walked to the edge of the stage, holding his hands up to silence the crowd.

"People of Hadrian's Wall," he started to say before turning towards the table Breck and the Sarmatians occupied, "my friends, both old _and _new," he added with a wink in her direction that made her roll her eyes, "welcome to the celebration of our good Lord and commanding officer, Artorius Castor!" The crowd cheered loudly and Arthur looked almost bashful, crossing his arms with a small smile on his face. "Tonight, good people, is a night of drink, music, and enjoyment. Whether you be British, Sarmatian, Roman, or Celt – we are all brought together to honor this man, the greatest warrior Briton has ever known." He said, grabbing Arthur by the arm and yanking him forward. "Now, be drunk and dance!"

The crowd cheered for Lancelot's words as he bowed and then turned their attention to Arthur, multiple people beginning to yell, "Speech! Speech!"

Finally, after a bit of prodding, Arthur stepped forward and the crowd quieted again. "My thanks, friends, for the warm welcome and happy wishes. May tonight be a night to remember." He said quickly before giving a humble wave and then signaling for the musicians to start up again.

The dancing continued, the drinks were began being served in rapid precession, and Arthur made his way off of the stage, looking like he was intending to come to their table but was swarmed in an instant by well-wishers and was lost to the crowd. Breck smiled to herself at how much the people of Hadrian's Wall obviously liked her friend before noticing that Lancelot was making his way towards her with mischievous glint in his dark eyes. Knowing him, the look could only mean trouble, and she braced herself for whatever he had in store for her.

"Breck. My dear, pretty, Breck…" He said, sweeping her hand up grandly and pressing a kiss to the top of it. "Might you take pity on a poor fool such as me and do me the honor of this dance?"

Breck tried very hard not to smile in amusement and glanced towards the gang of woman nearby that were both showing a lot of cleavage and even more jealousy at the attention she was getting from the Sarmatian. "I would, but I should not want to discourage your women." She answered, pointing towards the morally-questionable females.

Lancelot's eyebrows rose and he glanced towards the women before turning a quirked eyebrow back on her. "Quite the contrary, it may increase my success tonight."

"You are despicable." Breck finally laughed.

"You enjoy it." He shot back before motioning for her to follow him. "Come. One dance shall not harm you."

"I should hope not." She said before finishing her ale and then allowed Lancelot to pull her out to join the other dancing couples.

* * *

An hour or so into the festivities, the majority of the group was either drunk or well on their way to it. Though the dances were foreign to her and it took a while to learn the moves, with the help of a little liquid courage she finally managed to catch on and had shared a dance with both Lancelot and Galahad. She decided to take a break, moving away from a protesting Galahad, and went to take a seat at the table. Dagonet was looking more inebriated then she'd ever seen and struck up a conversation with her as she took the seat next to him. Bors was clearly drunk, Vanora was running about and trying to keep track of their many children, and both Jols and Tristan had disappeared somewhere amongst the crowd.

"Where is Arthur?" She asked Dagonet, looking around to try and spot the familiar face of her oldest friend through the crowd.

"I spotted him some time ago." He said, looking around as well and waving in the general direction of where the ale was located. The large man became distracted by something and Breck looked at him curiously before looking to see what had caught his attention. A pretty, dark haired woman, who was standing with two middle-aged women, was smiling at him shyly and when she waved, Dagonet immediately turned his eyes away.

Breck grinned widely and nudged him conspicuously. "Dag, you sly man." She said. "You must speak with her." She added in encouragement.

"Do not be impractical." He murmured, gulping his ale quickly. She could tell as he drank that he eyed the girl again over the rim of his mug. Never before had Breck seen him interested in a woman at the Wall, and as her friend turned his eyes away, she decided that he would speak to the girl if she had to drag him over there herself.

"If you do not, I shall." Breck threatened. "And I shall not be nearly as eloquent as you, I assure you." Dagonet grumbled something incoherent under his breath and glared at her, making her laugh. "Dagonet, what have you to lose?"

"If it ceases your pestering…" He finally said before finishing his ale and then standing from the table. "Tristan is correct – you _are _a stubborn woman."

Breck's eyes widened and he smirked at her in triumph before going to talk to the girl. She wasn't sure if he had said it as a form of retaliation, which would mean that she was not nearly as good at hiding her attraction for the scout as she thought she was, or if Tristan had actually spoken about her to him, which left a strange feeling in her stomach – either way, she shook her head in bemusement. She chanced a look at Bors to see if he'd heard and he was smirking at her wordlessly, a drunken look of amusement on his face.

"Oh, shut it." Breck shot at him. Bors only held his hands up in defeat before averting his gaze.

In the next moment, right when she was about to get up to refill her drink, a mug of ale was placed on the table in front of her. Breck was caught off guard by the move and looked up to see who had treated her before she was stunned for the second time in a matter of minutes – Tristan's hand was retreating from the ale he'd just presented her with and he continued to stun her when he took a seat beside her. She must have been staring at him like he had birds flying out of his ears because it caused him to quirk an eyebrow at her, which in turn made her snap back to reality.

"Thank you." Breck said with a small smile.

"You are welcome."

If he continued to surprise her anymore, Breck was sure her heart was going to fail. Considering it was Tristan, the gesture she'd just received from him was one of monumental proportions. It made her wonder just how much ale he had consumed by that point.

"Breck, 'ow much longer are you stayin' with us?" Bors asked loudly, scooting down on the bench to sit directly across from where she and Tristan sat. Vanora had returned and openly gawked at the fact that the younger redhead was sitting in such close proximity to the scout before quickly trying to conceal it when Breck shot her a look.

She swallowed her gulp and turned her attention back to him. "Well, Bors, as God and Arthur should have it, I have extended my stay – permanently." She revealed.

"Delightful!" Bors said drunkenly before pulling a funny face in Tristan's direction. "Ain't it, Tristan?"

Breck glanced at the scout and saw him nod once before turning a suspicious look on Bors. Breck eyed the drunken man before her, deciphered the guilty look on his lover's face, and then pieced together the fact that Vanora had shared her secret with Bors. The younger of the two redheads narrowed her eyes at the older one and resisted the urge to pull her away and scold her, knowing it would probably only rouse the suspicion of the exotic Sarmatian next to her. Well, assuming he wasn't suspicious already.

She was saved from further embarrassment went Gawain came sauntering up to the table and she eyed his hand when he extended it in her direction.

"My fair lady, I surely will die of heartbreak should you deny me this dance." He said with a large, drunken grin on his handsome face. It was obvious that he had consumed quite a bit of ale by that point, judging by the openly flirtatious look on his face.

Though Breck was intrigued by Tristan's new courteousness, the thought of dancing with the handsome Sarmatian was entirely too tempting to ignore, especially when she noticed the jealous looks on the faces of the women around him. Breck was sure that no woman had ever been envious of her before coming to the Wall and it made her feel even more privileged to be accepted so readily by the men then she already had. So, with a grin and a long drink of the ale Tristan had given her, Breck slipped her hand into Gawain's and let him pull her from the table.

"Do not fear, sir knight. I shall not allow you to be delivered into the icy hands of death this night." She said as she stood before him. Bors whistled loudly from the table and Gawain winked at him before he placed a hand on the small of her back, and led her out onto the dance floor. "Do not drink my ale!" Breck called over her shoulder at Bors.

If he had been deterred by her reaction to him outside of the infirmary three days ago, he was very good at hiding it as they danced. While the other dancing couples laughed and even traded partners with each other, Gawain appeared to only have eyes for her, keeping her nearby and smiling at her widely throughout the entirety of the song. Breck would be lying if she said that she wasn't flattered by the attention. More often then not, the friend or warrior in her saw more pampering then her female side. For the first time in her life, the looks she received from Gawain made her feel desired and more like an attractive woman then ever before.

She tried inconspicuously to spot Tristan with each turn of their dance and wondered what he thought of her and Gawain right then. Surely if he had taken a personal interest in her because of something a stranger had said, he would be interested in the intentions of Gawain. Unless, of course, he already knew what motivated Gawain to act the way he was right then. She finally spotted him still seated at the table through the crowds and she blushed when they locked eyes for a moment before averting her attention back to her dance partner.

Breck suspected that Gawain wanted to keep her for another dance as the musicians started up a new song but when she finally spotted Arthur, she called for his attention and disentangled herself from her dance partner to go to him. Gawain surprised her by latching onto her hand with his own and following her, calling out greetings here and there to people he knew as they made their way to the Roman. Arthur looked just as surprise as she felt to see the two of them but only wrapped Breck up in a hug once she was close enough.

"Many happy returns." Breck said, pulling her hand from Gawain's gently so she could give Arthur a proper hug.

"My thanks." Arthur said.

"Arthur – best wishes." Gawain said he stepped forward to shake his friend's hand.

"Thank you, friend." Arthur responded before eyeing his empty mug. "Could you do me the favor?" He asked, extending his cup towards Gawain.

"Certainly. I require more myself." Gawain agreed, grasping Arthur's mug. "Breck?"

"I do not." She answered. Gawain nodded, grasped her hand, and then kissed the top of it before disappearing into the crowd. Arthur's eyebrows had risen so high on his forehead that they nearly disappeared into his hairline and she rolled her eyes at him, whacking his shoulder when a large grin broke out onto his face. "He is drunk." She shot at him.

"And evidently besotted with you." He said, draping an arm around her shoulders and leading her towards the table the Sarmatians had claimed. "Had I known you would affect my men this way, I might have warned them."

"What is the nonsense you speak?" Breck teased, poking his side. "Are you drunk as well?"

"That is beside the point…" Arthur said dismissively with a wave of his hand.

Back at the table, Arthur was immediately intercepted by Galahad and Bors. Lancelot, who had a woman sitting on his lap, had managed to pull Dagonet and Tristan into a game of dice and Jols was drunkenly singing a song to himself. Breck grinned when she noticed that the pretty, dark haired woman Dagonet had gone to speak to was standing behind the large healer and then went to claim the open spot on Tristan's other side, feeling proud of her friend for having successfully gained the woman's attention. However, before she could make it around the table, Vanora grabbed her around the arm and pulled her close.

"Tristan's eyes have not left you and Gawain." The older redhead whispered quickly for only her ears to hear before releasing Breck and continuing on as though nothing had been said in the first place.

Breck glanced at the scout, who now seemed preoccupied with the game he was playing, and then shot a questioning look at Vanora. She directed an obvious, pointed look at Tristan and then took a seat next to Bors. With a deep intake of breath, Breck made her way to the other side of the table and sat down next to Tristan. The Sarmatian spared her a glance as she reached around him for her previously abandoned ale and she smiled at him before settling in.

"And what is this game?" She asked, sipping her now slightly warm drink.

"A true test of intellect." Lancelot said proudly.

"What he means to say," Tristan drawled, "is a test of dumb luck." He corrected. Breck snickered at the offended look on Lancelot's face and she could have sworn that the corner of Tristan's mouth quirked a bit as he accepted the dice for his turn.

"May I?" She asked, extending her hand to him.

Tristan eyed her for a moment then dropped the dice into her hand. When she rolled, it produced a frustrated grin from both Lancelot and Dagonet and she frowned, not sure what had happened. "Is this bad?"

"For them." Tristan said before collecting all of the money on the table. "I have won."

"Unfair." Lancelot protested. "The roll should not count!"

"Oh, do remove the pout from your face, Lancelot." Vanora said to him with a laugh. "It is quite unbecoming." The table laughed at his expense. "Besides, have you not heard? Celts bring only luck." Breck lifted her ale to her friend in thanks at her words and nodded her agreement.

"Not from what I've 'eard." Bors interjected. His words earned him a hard stare from most of the inhabitants of the table, Tristan included. "Wha'?"

Gawain returned with ale for he and Arthur just as Galahad came staggering over to her side of the table. There was a challenging look on his face and it was directed at Breck, who appraised him warily in return. "The time has come, my lady, for a rematch." He said threateningly. "You have bested my dagger skills once before, never shall it happen again."

"Is this so?" Breck asked as Gawain came to stand behind her, a hand dropping onto her shoulder as he drank from his mug. She was sure Arthur would have had something to say about the move on Gawain's part, but thankfully he had been pulled away by Jols to endure more attention and birthday wishes from the townsfolk.

"Yes." The curly haired knight said with a firm nod.

"You are positive?" She continued. "I do not wish to embarrass you before the entire town."

Galahad glared as the table began taunting and teasing him and then pointed at her. "You and me. Now." He said before unsheathing his dagger from only Lord knows where and flipping it menacingly. "Or are you too frightened?"

"Fighting words if I have ever heard them." Gawain further instigated, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "What say you?"

She felt her competitive side flare and quirked an eyebrow at him before taking a long drink from her ale and getting up from the table. She then flashed a sickly-sweet smile at Galahad. "I did not wish to do this…" She said in mock sympathy before moving her skirt out of the way to reach for the dagger that she always kept stowed away in her boot at the cheering of her friends.

With a start, she realized that her dagger was no longer there. Breck frowned, trying to remember when she had last seen it, and then cursed when she remembered that she must have forgotten it in the stables. She had been using it when fixing up Arthur's saddle but her distraction at both the arrival of Galahad and Gawain and her excitement for the upcoming party had obviously caused her to leave it behind.

"What is wrong?" Vanora asked.

"My dagger," Breck said with a frown. "I left it in the stables."

Galahad waved off her words. "Tristan, loan the woman your dagger."

Tristan, to everyone's surprise, moved to do so but she put a hand on his arm to stop him. "I thank you, but I must go and collect mine." She said with a sigh. "Mine was made with my father – I shall never forgive myself if harm comes to it."

"If you must." Galahad said. "I shall find us a target." And then he was stumbling away from the group.

"Do you wish for company?" Gawain asked, stepping close.

Breck could feel the eyes of the table on them and shook her head, patting his cheek and earning her a smirk from the golden-haired Sarmatian. Then she turned on her heel and headed for the exit to go and collect her dagger. "I shall return shortly." She said called over her shoulder. "Fetch me another ale!"

* * *

Thankfully, she found her dagger amongst the saddles and immediately sighed in relief when she spotted the familiar weapon. Feeling angry with herself, she wiped the blade on her skirt and eyed it to check for any signs of damage. To her relief there were none and she opted to stow it away in the belt of her dress instead of her boot before calling a greeting to the horses.

"How goes your night?" She asked in Gaelic to the animals. "Aye?"

The horses only blinked at her and she laughed shortly at their reaction before stepping out of the stall to head back to the square. She wasn't sure if it was just because she was intoxicated or not, but both Gawain and Tristan were being a lot more forward and forthcoming then they usually were. Gawain was openly flirting with her, not attempting to conceal it in front of their friends, and Tristan was actually speaking to her as though they _hadn't_ been butting heads ever since meeting. Ale certainly brought on a peculiar change in both men and she wasn't sure which she enjoyed more – the amorous attention of Gawain or the courteous behavior of Tristan.

With a grin, she stepped out of the stables and breathed in the night air. She wondered what the rest of the night would have in store for her; Gawain had obviously located his courage to pursue her and she enjoyed the attention, but it was impossible to forget Tristan. She had to admit that she more interested in seeing where his newfound courteousness would lead to and what it meant in regards to their strange relationship. Perhaps, if they were both drunk enough, she would gather the courage and give into temptation to ask Tristan for a dance? With a laugh, she immediately dismissed the notion. Tristan may be willing to be friendly, but not _that _friendly. Besides, the thought of the mysterious man dancing was downright comical.

She'd just stepped a foot in the direction of the square when a hand suddenly clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped tightly around her torso, effectively stopping any forward motion she had. Breck let out a sound of surprise but the hand stifled the noise. With wide eyes and a thumping heart, she watched as Gerland and one of his cronies stepped out from behind some abandoned wagons, menacing looks adorning both of their faces.

"My, my, my." He said, his eyes leering at her and trailing over her form multiple times with a look that she had never wanted to see coming from him. "We are quite alone, are we not?"

Breck sobered up immediately as the direness of her situation settled in and she began cursing herself wildly in her head for being so idiotic. What in the world had made her believe that leaving the square unattended, with zero witnesses or protection, was a good idea? Her eyes flickered around to see if anyone had followed her out, but she spotted no one. It was probably too dark for anyone to see them anyway.

"Where be your precious Sarmatians now?" Gerland asked as he stepped forward. He reached a hand towards her and trailed one finger over her cheek, making her cringe. Then he grinned maliciously and trailed the finger down the length of her sternum before moving to grasp her waist. When he stepped close, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Do not worry. We are to go where no one can hear you scream."

The men around her chuckled and Breck knew she had to form a plan. And fast.

Remembering the dagger that was in her belt, she waited until Gerland moved away enough for her to strike and then used what little reach she had to grasp the hilt of her weapon. Then, with all her might, she shoved it into the leg of the man holding her. He released her with a wail and she didn't hesitate to throw her head back into his, hearing the crunch of his nose as her skull made contact. The move had only taken a second and she yanked the dagger back out of his leg, trying to ready herself before the other two moved into action, but was cut short of her movements when Gerland's fist lashed out and connected with her jaw.

Breck stumbled, falling back into the outside wall of the stable, and managed to ward off the next punch he threw. He was larger then her though and grasped her by the arm when she tried to strike him, effectively tossing her around in a circle and throwing her into the arms of the other man. He didn't waste another moment before landing another hard punch into her stomach.

"You stupid bitch!" He growled angrily. "You – "

A dagger came flying from out of nowhere in that moment, ending whatever the wretch was saying, and landed right into the side of his neck. Breck watched as he fell to the ground and then was whipped around and used as a shield when the man tried to see who had come to her rescue.

She heaved a heavy sigh of relief when she spotted Tristan not ten feet away, his sword drawn now and a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Release her. Or you will regret not doing so." His voice was steady but his demeanor was entirely threatening.

The man holding her seemed to contemplate his next move before she was hastily released and then he took off running. She stumbled a bit, watching him go, before glancing down at the man she'd already stabbed. He was bleeding heavily from his nose and scrambling away the best he could with his injured leg. Breck narrowed her eyes at him before striding over quickly to catch up with him.

"Wait, please, I – "

Breck ignored his pleas and sunk her dagger into his chest wordlessly, watching for a moment as he gaped at her like a fish and then yanking her dagger back out of him as he fell to the ground. Her anger began to slowly subside as she watched the man die and she sighed, rubbing her jaw where she'd been punched, before turning her eyes back to Tristan. He'd sheathed his sword again and was walking slowly over towards her. There was still anger in his gaze and she was positive that this was the first time she'd been able to decipher what he was feeling at the exact moment he was feeling it. They stared one another down for a moment before he leaned down to yank his dagger out of the now dead Gerland's neck.

"Are you hurt?" He asked without looking at her as he wiped the blade of his dagger on the man's shirt before standing again.

"No." She answered softly. Breck looked down at the two dead men and then back at Tristan. She felt embarrassed and childish and the last thing she wanted was for Tristan to judge her over her moment of stupidity. "Forgive me. I was…foolish."

"You were." He agreed, making here feel even worse about herself then she already did. "They were, too." She wasn't exactly sure what he meant by his words but didn't have a chance to think over it long before he spoke again. "You have killed before." He stated, looking at appraisingly.

"Aye." Breck confirmed, glancing at the blood on her dagger before following Tristan's lead and wiping it clean on the man she'd just used it on. Then she stowed it away in her boot and face him again. "Thank you. If you had not shown…" She trailed off before shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. "Arthur will be furious with me." She said, dreading having to face her friend now. Why had this had to happen tonight of all nights?

Tristan stared at her for a moment and then stepped towards her, grasping her by the arm for only a moment in order to send her off in the direction of the square. The gesture had been brief, but his touch had been gentle, and she gave him a confused look. "Find an explanation for the mark on your face." He informed her. "Do not tell anyone of this tonight." Then he looked down at the bodies. "I will rid of the bodies."

Going back to the party after what had just happened seemed ludicrous, but she knew she would be expected back at the celebration and nodded slowly. "Do you wish me to help?" She asked him.

He shook his head. "Go." Tristan urged.

With one last nod, Breck turned on her heel and headed back to the square. She wanted to help Tristan but thought it wise to do as he said right then. It would require her best performance to pretend like nothing had happened but she could only hope now she would be able to make it through the night without drawing the suspicions of her friends. One thing was for certain, she dreaded the next day – once Arthur was told the truth, she was sure she was in for the reprimanding of a lifetime.

* * *

**A/N: Whew! That was a long chapter! I must have re-written this chapter five times. Hopefully it didn't disappoint! **

**Anyway…thank you, my loyal reviewers, for the feedback! And a warm welcome to all of you new reviewers! I thought about this story earlier and realized I'm not even halfway through yet. We still have a long road ahead of us! So buckle your seatbelts, my lovelies! It's gonna be a bumpy road!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck tossed and turned all night once she was finally in her quarters and settled for bed. First it was the memories of the attack constantly replaying in her head that kept her awake; then it was the fear of Arthur's reaction that made it an even greater impossibility to fall asleep. She'd told her friends that she had accidently run into a beam in the stables and, though she was then on the receiving end of numerous taunts, everyone seemed to buy it without too much questioning. Had Arthur been less inebriated she was sure that he would have been suspicious of her pathetic lie. Luckily for her, he had been too drunk to see through the excuse. Tristan returned some twenty minutes after Breck and by then he'd worked up his own story to explain his absence from the celebration. He then had claimed the seat next to her, nodded at her once, and then the festivities had continued with their friends being none the wiser of what had transpired.

Things were going to be different between her and Tristan now, Breck knew that for a fact. She had previously suspected that there was more to him then she had originally thought and now those suspicions had been proven by his actions before, during, and after the attack. In return, she was positive that his thoughts on her had shifted. He had seen her kill someone without so much as a batting her eyes and his reaction to it had verified he hadn't thought her capable of such an action. She had caught him staring at her multiple times throughout the rest of the night with a calculating, quizzical look on his handsome face and Breck was sure that sooner or later he would approach her about it.

She managed to finally catch a few restless hours of sleep, waking again about an hour after the sun had risen, and then she began pacing the length of her room while trying to determine the best way to approach Arthur with the news. No matter how she said it in her head, she simply could think of no gentle way to tell him that she had barely escaped a cruel assault _and _that she had killed one of the townsfolk and decided that she would just be blunt with him and get on with it.

Most of the townsfolk still appeared to be recuperating when Breck was finally en route to Arthur's quarters. The only person who _did _appear chipper, however, was Vanora – the woman wasted no time running up to Breck in a rush when the two spotted one another in the street.

"I _must _speak with you." Vanora said, an excited look on her face. "Oh, that looks frightful." She added, glancing at the bruise on Breck's jaw. "Regardless, have you heard of Gerald? His body was discovered just out of town."

"I am aware." Breck said with a nod.

Vanora frowned at the younger redhead; she obviously had not gotten the response she had anticipated. "Does this news not relieve you?" She asked, clearly at a loss. Then a realization seemed to dawn on her. "You know something."

"Aye." Breck confirmed. "But my secret shall be revealed to Arthur before anyone else." She finished sternly.

"And what of Tristan?" Vanora asked, crossing her arms. "Do not think me a fool, Breck. My inebriation was not as great as that of the men – I noticed the change in the pair of you."

"In due time, Vanora." Breck said in exasperation. She was nervous enough over the impending conversation with Arthur without the added stress of having to explain to Vanora the shift in her relationship with Tristan. "I have greater matters to attend to." She finally said before pushing past the woman without another word.

She wasn't sure if she was comforted or not that news of Gerland's death had spread so quickly – if Arthur already knew, it might soften the blow of what she had to tell her long time friend. Then again, it may have given Arthur all the clues he needed to piece together what had actually happened and he may already be raging mad by the time she approached him. She sincerely hoped that if rumor had already reached him, then Arthur would be more inclined to the former, rather then the latter of the two options.

* * *

Arthur had just been about to indulge himself a bit of breakfast when Breck came barging into the council room and he _hadn't _been aware of what had become of Gerland. At least, not until Breck finally revealed the actual account of the past night's events. Arthur then promptly went from hungover and sleepy to stark raving mad and proceeded to begin yelling at her so loudly that she was positive he had awoken anyone sleeping within a five mile radius.

"You were _reckless _and, and _foolish _and, and _completely careless_!" He shouted after a nearly thirty minute long rant.

She began to suspect that approaching Arthur about the encounter and death of Gerland when her friend was hungover and before he'd had the chance to consume breakfast might have been an error in judgment.

Arthur came to stand in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest, and if she hadn't been worried he might have strangled her with his bare hands, she would have laughed at the sight he presented – his curly hair was wild from both sleep and running his hands through it in agitation, his clothes for the morning had been hastily thrown on and were mismatched, and she could spot a few suspicious looking dark marks on his neck from the previous night. The glare he had fixed on her, however, was all business and she found herself wishing she could sink into the floor right then.

"Where was your intelligence? What did you think of?" He demanded.

"I – "

Arthur held a hand up to cut her off abruptly. "Do not speak." He interrupted harshly.

Breck immediately snapped her lips shut and nodded, waiting for whatever he would say next. Normally, this type of lecture from anyone would have set her anger off but she hampered the emotion the best that she could, knowing full well that this was because of her own doing and she deserved every bit of it. Still, part of her wondered if Arthur was at least happy to know that the threat against her was now taken care of. She was smart enough not to ask him such a question, though.

"For the first time, I feel disappointment in you, Breck." Arthur finally heaved, rubbing his forehead in dissatisfaction. "Time and again I have recounted my wishes to protect you and what is your response? To put yourself directly in harm's way! What if Tristan had not shown? What of that?" He began to rant again. "I believed you a skilled fighter, a smart woman. Have I been mistaken in my assumptions?"

His words insulted her a bit and she shot him a disgruntled look, crossing her arms over her chest and mimicking his pose. "I _am _smart and I _can _fight." She said in her defense. "This unfortunate event occurred under…unordinary circumstances." She finally finished.

"Do you not understand the gravity of this encounter?" Arthur demanded to know, obviously not pleased with her response.

"Of course." Breck said hastily. "No one is more aware of how terrible the outcome might have been then I. I regret my own actions, but I cannot change what has come to pass." She began to explain, finally getting the opportunity to plead her case to him. "Arthur, this would have transpired in due time and possibly when no one was here to be of help. Aye, it is untoward, but it could have been so much worse."

"This is supposed to appease me?" Arthur asked with a scowl.

"It is to help you see reason." She retorted.

"See reason?" He asked with a dark laugh. "You wish me to reward you for your naivety?"

"I am _not _naïve." Breck said, her temper beginning to show through more. She knew Arthur was angry just because he was worried, but now he was beginning to become offensive with his lack of faith in her.

"Your ignorance, then?"

"I was intoxicated!" She finally shouted.

"You were imprudent." He clarified.

"Arthur, you cannot always protect me." She said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"I know this." He retorted. "Yet I had believed your respect and loyalty towards me would keep you from involving yourself in any foolish endeavors." He shot at her. "I feel I have been disproven."

Breck saw red at his words and jumped out of her chair, moving towards him so fast that he barely had time to catch her wrist when she went to strike him. It wasn't often that she was driven to this point of anger, but his questioning of her loyalty had pushed her over the edge. If he was surprised at her move to hit him, he masked it well. She, on the other hand, was obviously fuming now and yanked her arm out of his grasp.

"Do not ever question the level to which I hold you in regard." Breck spat at him angrily. "Do not _ever _insult me in such a way. I would kill for you, Arthur. Even greater, I would _die _if it meant keeping you alive for even a second longer because I believe you so valuable." She took a step back from him and shook her head, unable to believe the words he'd just said. "You have never insulted me more then just now, _old friend_."

Arthur had the decency to look regretful of what he'd just said, but right as he opened his mouth to speak the door opened behind them and stopped him short. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Tristan strode into the room, closing the door behind him with a careful eye on both her and Arthur. The slightly hesitant look on his face lead her to believe that he had been able to hear their shouting match even before coming into the room. Then the thought suddenly occurred to her that they might actually be in store for a graver punishment then she had originally prepared for – they had, after all, killed two men the night before.

She tensed as she turned her eyes back to Arthur and felt the anger in her be replaced with uneasiness. She and Tristan were Arthur's friends, yes, but even she understood he was not allowed to be biased in situations like these. Breck would have to accept her fate if Arthur were forced to sentence her for her crime, but it would not sit well with her if Tristan had to face punishment because of her stupidity.

Tristan came to stand a few feet away from her and studied her for a brief moment before looking to his commanding officer. "You sent for me." He said to Arthur.

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes." He confirmed. "I wish to hear the recount of last night from your perspective."

Tristan glanced at her again and then clasped his hands together in front of his body as he began to speak. "I followed her when she left the square unattended, being fully aware of the danger her separation from us might bestow upon her. Gerland and his men attacked and I intervened when it appeared she would not easily escape." He said simply.

Arthur nodded and began pacing again, his mind obviously working hard to decide where he should go from there. Breck wanted to say something to Tristan, maybe thank him again for helping her or even apologize for the mess she had gotten him into, but held her tongue. She knew that it was Arthur's duty to make sure order was kept within the Wall and if corporal punishment was needed, he would have to be unbiased and see that it was followed through. The thought of Tristan suffering because of her left an even heavier feeling throughout her body and she finally had to turn her eyes away from him guiltily.

"Arthur…" She started to say.

He held a hand up to stop her and then came to a halt in front of them. He looked first at Breck and then at Tristan. "My friend, I have many thanks to bestow upon you for your services to Breck these past few weeks." He said, nodding at him. "If not for you, the ill fates that sought her out surely would have reached their target."

Tristan only inclined his head towards his commanding officer.

"As for you, Breck," Arthur continued, turning to her.

"Allow me to speak for a moment." She cut in, making him pause. When he nodded at her to continue, she took a deep breath. "If corporal punishment be required for the actions of this evening past, I ask only that _I_ be the recipient. Tristan's involvement only derived from his wish to stop the attack – I demand to bear the brunt of the sentence."

Tristan's eyebrows raised a tick higher as he regarded her and Arthur only shook his head, a tiny smirk showing on the corner of his lips. "There will be no punishment." Arthur said firmly. The sigh of relief that escaped Breck did not go unnoticed to the two men next to her. "The actions of last night were made to preserve your own life and that requires no dealings of retribution." He continued. "I do, however, require a new condition be set in place in regards to the deal you and I have made."

Now she was confused. She knew that he was talking about their pact to slay Cerdic together, but what could he possibly want to instate now? "Continue…" She said slowly. She could see from the corner of her eye that Tristan was looking back and forth between them rapidly, obviously at a loss as to what they were talking about.

"Due to the events of last night, my concern over the extent of your skills in battle has greatly increased." He began to say, making her frown. "The mission the pair of us has agreed upon will require a steady blade and firm knowledge in the ways of war – I feel it best that you capitalize on your time here at the Wall and further hone your skill before the task is upon us."

So Arthur didn't think that she was prepared to fight Cerdic? Breck felt the need to point out to him, yet again, that she'd been surviving just fine on her own since she first took to hunting down the Saxon in question but bit her tongue to keep from doing so. "What is it, exactly, you ask of me?" She asked slowly.

Arthur looked at her, then at Tristan. "If Tristan agrees, he will take his position as your trainer once his wound has completely healed." He said firmly. "What say you, Tristan?"

Breck looked at Tristan, feeling peeved with the turn of events. Breck knew there was no way to convince Arthur she wasn't a horrible fighter given the circumstances of the previous night, but was this really necessary? She might not have minded if Arthur had decided to appoint Galahad or Dagonet (she would have even accepted Gawain), but Tristan? Their camaraderie, while feeling promising, was also new and fragile. The fact that he hadn't strangled her because of the trouble she'd already caused him was a miracle in its own, and now he would be forced to spend his free time preparing her to fight Cerdic? The thought of sparring with him was embarrassing to begin with; she did not wish to think of how mortified she would feel should she, yet again, wind up making herself look asinine in front of him.

"I agree." Tristan finally said, only making the dread in her worsen.

"What of my students?" She asked irritably, reminding her friend about one of the duties he'd appointed her.

"They have progressed well – you are relieved of the chore." Arthur said with a note of finality.

"I ask that you not judge my skill on the performance of last night." She said, trying a different approach to attempt to change his mind. The redhead knew that extra practice would only benefit her but the fact that it was with Tristan was causing her to feel all sorts of anxiety.

"Breck, I make this decision out of precaution more then lack of faith." Arthur said with a heavy sigh. "How much time has passed since you last fought in battle?" Breck pursed her lips, knowing that the answer would only prove his point, and he gave her a knowing look. "You will train with him or I shall retract my assistance in the matter of Cerdic."

Tristan looked surprised to hear the name and turned a calculating look on her. He obviously had heard of the Saxon before but was unaware of how the man was interwoven with her life. She figured that Tristan would have found out sooner or later anyway and decided not to hold Arthur accountable for revealing her secret. Finally, she decided that there was no way to get around her friend's request and nodded at him in agreement. "If you so wish it."

Arthur nodded and then motioned for her to follow him. "Remain here, Tristan – we have much to discuss." He instructed to his scout before leading her out into the hall.

Breck crossed her arms once they were alone and Arthur shut the door before turning an apologetic gaze on her. "Forgive me for my earlier words." He said sincerely. "There are few in this world as loyal to me as you, my friend. It was wrong of me to accuse you otherwise."

She nodded and offered him a half-hearted smile. "You are forgiven." She said before frowning at the door that concealed Tristan from them. "I am not overjoyed with your request."

"I am aware." Arthur said knowingly. "Trust in me when I say the decision was made for your benefit."

Seeing as the man in question had been the primary reason for her recent emotional turmoil, she wasn't so convinced it was. "That remains to be seen." She shot at him before turning to leave.

* * *

The town was much more lively now and word had definitely spread about what had transpired the previous night while everyone celebrated in the square. The looks that were sent her way as she made her way to the training arena were mixtures of sympathy, fear, and distaste. So what if people didn't like her? Did she care if she was disliked? No. She didn't know if there was anyone in town that Gerland and the crony she'd killed were close to, but she was not about to apologize for her actions – she had been attacked and had been forced to retaliate, the evidence of that was currently taking form in the dark bruise on her jaw. And if anyone decided to speak badly against Tristan, Breck would defend him wholeheartedly.

Breck wondered what Arthur and Tristan were talking about right then. She assumed it was probably to go over how Arthur wanted Tristan to proceed with the training or maybe even to reveal just how Cerdic was connected to her. Then she wondered, with a sense of dread, how the news would change Tristan's perception of her.

She'd heard plenty of rumors about Tristan since coming to the Wall – that he was bloodthirsty, that he was a fierce warrior, that he was the most skilled fighter Arthur had serving under him; it was probably why Arthur had chosen him to train her in the first place. But would the man be forgiving of her heritage? Breck hoped beyond hope that her lineage would not deter the progress that she had been making with Tristan. He had finally begun to be less abrasive towards her and the last thing she wanted was for him to revert back into his resentful shell – especially if he would be taking up sword against her.

"Breck!" A voice called from behind her.

She stopped, turning to see who was calling her, and saw Gawain jogging to catch up with her. She admired the way his hair flowed behind him for a moment before noticing the look on his face. He looked equal parts concerned and angry. "Hello, Gawain." She said with a small smile, unsure of his expression.

"Why did you not inform me of Gerland?" He asked as he came to a halt in front of her.

Breck determined that he had found out what happened to her the night before and shook her head. "There was not much to report."

"Not much to - ?" He cut himself off in disbelief and shook his head. Then he reached out to grasp her chin gently, turning her head so he could inspect the bruise on her jaw. She felt a bit uncomfortable at his scrutiny and resisted the urge to push his hand away from her, knowing he was only concerned. "You deem this unimportant?" He asked as he released her and motioned to her face. "You could have been severely injured…or worse."

"I am all too aware." Breck said, remembering the argument with Arthur. "I am sure all of Briton is aware, Arthur was shouting it so loud."

"Breck…"

"Gawain, I am fine." She said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to appease him. "Gerland is dead – he of not further threat to me."

"You should have allowed me to escort you." He chastised. "Then this would never have come to pass."

"On the contrary, it would have. In the very least, you men were home and I was not on my own when Gerland attacked." She said before removing her hand from him and taking a step in the direction of the arena. "You may escort me to the training arena if it so pleases you." She offered. Though Arthur had relieved her of her duties with the four young boys, there was one last session slated for that day. It would be bittersweet to release them unto the world, but she would soon be too busy with her own training to fret over it.

Gawain nodded and fell into step beside her. He still looked upset and frowned as he eyed her before shaking his head. The way he had acted around her the night before was not forgotten by Breck and she was not all that surprised when he moved closer to her side, his arm brushing against hers. "You attract trouble as Lancelot does women." Gawain finally mused, shaking his head. Breck had to crack a smile at his comparison. "I shall have to keep a watchful eye open."

"There is no need." Breck said firmly, her smile falling slightly. Between Arthur and Tristan, she had more protection then she could handle. The last thing she needed was another man turning into her shadow and following her about town. The three of them together would surely drive her insane. "It is already taken care of."

"You speak of Tristan." He stated, leaving no room for question.

"Aye." She confirmed, watching him for his reaction.

The expression that crossed Gawain's face at that statement was one that was hard to decipher. Based on the looks Gawain had shot towards her and Tristan the night before, her budding companionship with the quiet Sarmatian hadn't gone unnoticed to him. Where usually she and Tristan argued and bickered at one another, now it was obvious that their tumultuous relationship had turned more cordial. It wasn't as though it were a drastic change from how they'd been interacting prior to the attack, but the shift had been noticeable enough to their friends. Gawain, it seemed, included.

"You do not argue anymore." Gawain said slowly, eyeing her.

"Not quite, no." She agreed, not completely sure of where he was taking this conversation. "It grew tiresome." She added, laughing lightly to try and ease the tension in Gawain.

He didn't laugh with her, but offered her an attempt at a smile. She knew from experience that the half-smile wasn't genuine and felt a bit troubled by the way he was acting. Was he angry that circumstances had changed between her and Tristan? Was he jealous? Gawain had been more then obvious about his intentions towards her under the influence of alcohol and, currently, the possibility of his envious feelings didn't bring her a lot of comfort. Breck did not wish to come between the two men or cause any trouble for Arthur and the rest of the knights. They already had enough that they had to deal with without the added drama of her relationship with Gawain and Tristan.

"You are friends then?"

That was a question she was trying to answer herself. Was Tristan her enemy? Certainly not. But could she consider him a friend? Breck pursed her lips and thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. "To be honest, I am uncertain of that answer." She finally told him. "Perhaps more…allies?"

Gawain nodded and the unreadable expression finally left his handsome face. They had reached the gate that led to the training grounds and Breck could already see her students waiting for her in the distance. She waved to them quickly before turning her attention back to Gawain. He studied her for a moment before smiling and then opening the gate for her. "I will see you tonight?" He asked hopefully.

"Certainly." She confirmed, stepping through the gate.

"And should trouble find you again, you will inform me?" He prodded further, his eyes dropping to her bruised jaw for a moment.

Breck smiled at his concern and then nodded. "Yes, Gawain." She said to appease his anxiety over her safety. "Do not fret over the events of last night. It is over and done with and I shall not let such an instance occur again. I promise you this."

This seemed to satisfy him and he nodded before saying his parting words and turning to leave. She watched him go for a moment and then sighed. She knew now, without a doubt, that Gawain was pursing her. Where he had once tried to be reserved and discreet about it, last night seemed to have given him all the courage he needed. She knew Gawain to be a good man, but try as she might she could not push Tristan from her thoughts. He was handsome and mysterious and completely opposite from Gawain – Breck was drawn to him in a way she wasn't drawn to his comrade.

Breck turned her attention back to her students and then smiled. The boys would be sad, since they had formed a friendly bond during their sessions, and so would Breck. She was sure it was the first time anyone had looked up to her and she quite enjoyed it. Today, she would forget her troubling thoughts of Gawain and Tristan and concentrate on her pupils. They did not have much more time together and would simply have to make the very most of their last session together.

Then she would be at Tristan's mercy as they trained together and would have to face whatever he had in store for her.

* * *

**A/N: All I'm saying is I would hate to be Breck and have to choose between the two of them…oh, who am I kidding? I'd LOVE to be Breck! **


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Despite the fact that their argument had been their worst since becoming friends, the dust settled fairly quickly between Breck and Arthur. She suspected that the adjustments she'd made to his saddle as his present had eased his hard resolve, but then again, even when they were children they had never been able to stay angry with each other for long. Though his temper could be nasty from time to time, she knew very well that Arthur would never do anything to intentionally hurt her and vise versa, making it easy for them to forgive and forget even the angriest of grudges.

Furthermore, Breck didn't have many more concerns with the rest of the men residing at Hadrian's Wall – after what had happened to Gerland and his crony (the other hadn't been seen since the night of the attack), she suddenly found that the men she passed by would either jump out of her way or refuse to acknowledge her entirely. There were rumors, of course, and some of them ridiculous. The one she found particularly amusing was that she had killed all three as a sacrifice to some foreign Celtic God, and that the head of the third missing man resided in her quarters as some start to a shrine. The rest of the gossip was a bit more reasonable, though, and while she didn't like the attention, they gave her safe passage through town. Many people believed her to be involved with either Tristan or Gawain to some extent and did not wish to invoke the wrath of either warrior.

The bruise on her jaw had finally dissipated after a few days until it was only a yellowish mark distinguishable on her fair colored skin. The bruise on her abdomen, the other area that Gerland had stuck, was still sizeable but nothing that she found too bothersome. Marks like these were something she'd grown accustomed to during her travels and numerous scraps with wayward enemies. Dagonet had expressed concern over them once or twice after Arthur had forced her to get examined by the healer, but she had merely brushed him off dismissively.

"Pass the water?" Breck asked of Dagonet now.

The much taller man handed over the heavy bucket and she thanked him before dipping her rag into it and then beginning to run it along the body of Lugh. They had been bathing and tending to their horses together for the past half hour and she found the presence of the large, sometimes intimidating Sarmatian to be a comfort. Of all the knights, he was the one that reminded her most of her father – perhaps it was his height or maybe it was his gentle nature towards her. Either way, she had formed a comfortable, kin-like bond with him.

"How fares your lady?" She asked, looking over at him. "What is her name?" She questioned furthered.

He paused, frowning at the raucous snore that Bors emitted from where he napped on the benches nearby, then looked at her from over the top of his horse. "Her name is Venna. And I presume she fares well."

"Pretty name for a pretty woman." Breck mused. "You have not spoken to her?" She asked him curiously.

"No." He said firmly.

"Dagonet..." She said with a sigh. Honestly, the man was hopeless. He was obviously unsure about approaching women but she didn't understand why; he was handsome and kind and she'd seen plenty of females staring after him longingly as he obliviously made his way through town.

Dagonet shook his head, looking grave. "While the Romans control my destiny, a romance is most unfeasible."

Breck frowned over at him and shook her head. She supposed she should have suspected that this would be the reason for his hesitation to pursue the woman he clearly admired, seeing as she'd conversed with Gawain about this very subject once before. But all of the knights had sacrificed so much over the years, having no choice but to follow through with the commands given to them with only a shred of hope that someday they may make it out alive. Why should Dagonet not be allowed the luxury of having a beautiful woman that cared for him and made his time of servitude easier? Better yet, why not all of the knights? Bors had Vanora and it had worked out well enough for them. Surely the others had earned the right to such a companionship.

"The Romans do _not_ control your destiny, friend. That task lies within the hands of God." She finally said. Dagonet quirked an eyebrow at her statement but she only smiled, moving to wash Lugh's neck before continuing. "My father once told me that God has a plan for us all – even for those that have not and may not come to accept Him. You may not believe in Him, Dag, but He believes in you."

"It is your God's will then that I slay those who only fight for their own land and freedom?" He countered. "What sort of God lays out a path filled with death and bloodshed?"

The bitterness in his voice was unexpected. She had spoken with the knights about their many travels and battles over mugs of ale in the tavern, but Dagonet was the first to openly express his opposition to the things his duty required him to do. It was surprising, because he was usually the first to see any command given to him taken care of. Then she began to think of her own hardships that had motivated her wish to see Cerdic dead at her feet and then sighed, patting Lugh's nose before directing her stare at Dagonet.

"A God that understands there must be sacrifices made to obtain the life He has planned for us." She said slowly. "Though the road may be filled with uncertainty and loss, it is all merely apart of something much larger. For instance, your ancestors were spared, which has led you to _this _place and _these _companions and the possibility of love with a beautiful woman – there is a promise of a generous life ahead of you. You must only trust that He will lead you there."

Dagonet stared at her for a long moment, contemplating her words, then turned back to his horse. "You sound like Arthur." He commented, making her smile. "What of your plan, then? Why did he bring you here? What has your God shown _you_?"

Breck fell silent, not sure she wanted to answer the question. For a long time, she hadn't been very sure what God had in store for her. He had taken her family from her, along with any semblance of a home, and she had felt lost until she had made the definitive decision to track down and kill Cerdic. Breck had believed then that she knew who she was supposed to become – a woman after vengeance, maybe even a woman that would go into the history books for slaying the great Saxon leader. But things had changed once she came to Hadrian's Wall. Her new home had brought on obstacles she hadn't been prepared for and, to her chagrin, her stay here had taught her things she had never expected to learn.

"That remains to be seen." She said, thinking of Gawain and Tristan for a quick moment. "But one matter is certain – I know now there is more in me then just hatred and vengeance."

"What are you pair blabberin' about?" Bors asked suddenly from his spot on the benches.

"Hush." Dagonet commanded before turning his attention back to Breck with furrowed eyebrows. "Vengeance? What is this you speak of?" He demanded.

She sighed and turned to him again. "You know my family to be dead." She stated.

"Yes…" He said. Bors had sat up now and was watching them with a quirked eyebrow.

"I was not entirely truthful." She finally admitted. "My father, mother, and unborn sibling were murdered in cold blood by someone that my father believed to be his ally for many years. I have been tracking the man responsible for their demise."

Bors laughed heartily at this, making her glare at him, while Dagonet stepped closer towards her and rested his hands on his hips, giving her a very stern and serious look. Bors must have realized that he had offended and quickly stopped laughing to explain himself. "You are _full_ o' surprises." Bors called to her, stretching and then wincing as the moves put a bit of strain on his injuries.

"You mean to avenge them?" Dagonet asked. He didn't look pleased when she confirmed this with a nod. "Who is this man?" He inquired.

"Cerdic, the Saxon." She revealed.

"Bloody hell…" Bors said, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "You mean to kill the Saxon leader?"

"Aye." She said, jutting her chin up.

Bors shook his head in disbelief while Dagonet suddenly had a look of understanding on his face. "Your father is the Saxon Kenrick." He mused. "I knew his name to be familiar when you mentioned it previously. I have heard tales of him."

"He was a changed man." She defended at once, knowing very well of the unpleasant stories spread around about her father by those who believed him to be a deserter. "A man who did not merit the end he received."

"I meant no offense." Dagonet responded before tilting his head to the side. "This is why Tristan wished me to authorize him for training? To prepare you for your mission?"

This was news to her and she blinked in surprise. "He requested clearance?"

"Demanded, more like." He smirked at her look of questioning consternation and then shook his head. "Do not ask me to decipher his actions." He instructed. "For I, along with everyone living, can never discern what motivates Tristan in any of his endeavors. His…intentions…will be known when he wishes them to be." He explained with a knowing look before changing the subject. "Do the others know?"

"Only Arthur and Galahad." Breck answered.

Dagonet nodded and then turned back to his work. "Our Roman leader holds a Saxon to highest regard." He mused. "A most unorthodox alliance."

"I knew there 'ad to be more behind the fire in you then just the blood of the Celts." Bors mused as he finally stood from the bench and came to join them. He smirked at her and slapped her back roughly. "Ruddy Saxon…" He added fondly, ruffling her hair. "Speakin' o' Tristan..."

"Keep whatever secret Vanora revealed." She said sharply, pointing in the man's face threateningly. "Do not rouse the anger that resides within my Saxon blood."

Bors held up his hands defensively. "Not a word." He said with a wink. "I must tend to my bastards now before the lot burn down the town." He said. "Breck, Dag." He concluded as a means of saying goodbye before the burly man was limping out of the stables.

It was silent for a long moment and she studied Dagonet discreetly as they finished bathing the horses. Neither he, nor Bors, seemed concerned with the revelation of her lineage and that should have been enough to placate her, but she began to feel tense knowing that Tristan was so eager to start training her. She knew he wasn't going to be easy on her and the while the thought of spending so much time with Tristan was appealing, she was concerned about the effect the man had on her. It was hard enough not getting distracted by him when doing mundane things; she could not afford the diversion when she was to be training for something of such great importance to her. On top of that, Dagonet's choice of words kept replaying in her mind. The way he said them made her wonder if he knew more about the man's 'intentions' then he was letting on.

"Did you grant him clearance?" She finally asked.

Dagonet looked at her over his shoulder and then nodded. "Yes." He affirmed. "His recovery was speedy."

"Of course it was." She said sarcastically.

* * *

Despite her best attempts to make herself scarce and try to postpone the impending meeting with Tristan, she was tracked down a few hours later by Galahad. She'd hoped that maybe he'd come to visit with her, but he'd only come to inform her that Tristan had appointed him the one to locate her and promptly send her to the training arena. So, with a begrudging sigh, Breck went to her quarters to gather her weapons and then headed out to meet Tristan.

Why did the fates continue to torment her? She had hoped in vain that she would be able to put off her training for another week and that she would have more time to mentally prepare herself for the time to be spent with Tristan, but apparently he had obtained the miraculous ability of quick healing and now they had to begin much earlier then she had anticipated. They hadn't been alone since the night of the attack and, truth be told, Breck had no idea what to expect from him. His mysteriousness and refusal to be clear with his intentions towards her were beginning to become exhausting; did he mind her presence her or not? Did Tristan wish to be friends or was he simply making sure she didn't cause too much trouble for him and his fellow Sarmatians? She had a feeling that one of these days she would finally reach her breaking point with him and demand answers…or punch him.

He was leaning against the fence just inside the arena when she finally arrived. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world, lounging leisurely and eating a bright green apple, but watched her steadily as she approached. Breck noticed, with a bit of confusion, that he was standing next to a medium sized barrel that hadn't previously been there and that he didn't seem to have any weapons on him at the moment. Try as she might, she couldn't remember any other time that she had seen him unarmed. Breck then began to wonder just what sort of approach he was going to take in regards to prepping her for battle.

"Tristan." She said in greeting, pushing through the gate and then stopping a few feet in front of him.

He watched her for a long moment before turning his eyes back to his apple. "You do not require that." He said with a mild gesture towards the sword on her hip. "Nor your bow."

Breck frowned and slowly undid the belt keeping her sword on her hip. "I do not wish to assume – " She started to say.

"Then do not." Tristan cut in, ending her statement abruptly. "You know as well as any other the strength of the Saxon army." He began to say. "Drawing Cerdic into one-on-one combat will not be an easy feat and you will more then likely be killed before you may reach him." Breck opened her mouth to say something cutting in response to his rude lecture, but he cut her off again. "I am to make sure this does not happen."

"Are these your words or Arthur's?" She finally managed to ask irritably, placing her hands on her hips after propping her weapons up on the fence next to him. Was he just going to stand there and insult her all day or were they actually going to do something productive?

He ignored her question and stood to his full height. "You are a woman, which means you are weaker then the man you hunt." He said pointedly. She resisted the urge to scoff at him. "You will gain strength with your body before I will teach to gain strength with your weapon."

Just as she suspected, Tristan was going to be tough on her throughout her courses; his rough attitude was evidence enough of that. With a sigh, Breck finally shot him a conceding look, assuming it would be easier for both of them if she set her stubbornness aside and did as she was told. "What will you have me do then?"

He looked around and made a circling motion with his hand. "Run the length of this fence until I command you to stop. Then," he said, picking up the barrel, "you will lift this until instructed to cease."

Tristan showed her how he wished for to proceed with lifting the barrel and she watched him doubtfully until he set it back down. When she was much younger, her days had not been spent learning how to sew or garden or anything a normal girl would have learned – instead, she had been taught how to hunt, how to wield a sword, and how to keep herself alive. Yet her father had never put her through any type of conditioning such as this and she was sure that she was about to make a fool out of herself. It was the exact fear that she had been hoping to avoid.

"Do you wait for invitation?" Tristan asked her, quirking an eyebrow.

With that being said, Breck began doing as he had instructed her to. The running was not a problem for her since she had travelled by foot for a very long stretch of time until coming across Lugh. Breck had always physically been more on the slender side, so her strong point in battle had never been her strength but more her speed and agility. She ran the laps easily now but felt her frustration grow when she realized that Tristan had taken to inspecting her weapons rather then watching how she was faring with the first task he'd given her. She lost count of how many times she circles the perimeter of the arena and was beginning to feel a slight burn in her legs when he finally whistled for her to stop and motioned her over to the barrel.

The barrel was much heavier then she'd thought it would be. When she pulled it off the ground, she immediately felt the strain in her arms, back, and legs and heaved as she managed to lift it up in the way Tristan had. The man, though not overly built, was much stronger then she had thought; where she struggled to get the thing over her head, Tristan had lifted the barrel as though it weighed nothing. She began doing the motions as the Sarmatian had instructed and even though he began to circle her and eye her critically, she found it easy to ignore him as she concentrated on not toppling over or dropping the barrel on her own head. Soon enough, her body began to protest and she had to take a break, dropping the barrel onto the ground before her arms gave out.

"Did I instruct you to discontinue?" Tristan asked sharply, coming to stand before her with crossed arms.

"I…must…" She heaved, leaning her hands on her knees as her body sang at the relief of not lifting the barrel.

"Then you will die the moment you step foot amongst Cerdic's army." He shot at her before leaning over to look directly in her eyes. "There is no respite on the battlefield – one moment of rest leads to an eternity of darkness." They stared one another down for a long moment, making Breck feel like Tristan was trying to intimidate her, before he picked up the barrel effortlessly and shoved it none-too-gently back into her arms. "Again."

Breck fought every urge she had to throw the offending object at the man in front of her and resumed her task. Every time she repeated the move he had instructed her to do, she thought her body would give out from the exertion. She was surprised at just how little strength there was in her muscles considering that she was involved in so much manual labor, but fought her way through it stubbornly. Tristan's expression hinted that he didn't appear to think she could handle the training – she would prove him wrong no matter what.

"Enough." He said some five minutes later and she dropped the barrel onto the ground, resisting the urge to throw _herself _onto the ground next to it and rest. "Run." He said with a jerk of his head.

The running wasn't as easy this time around since her body was still reeling from the strength training, but she managed to make it through another ten minutes of the laps before Tristan instructed her to resume lifting. At this rate, Breck wasn't so sure that she would even be able to move the next day. She was receiving no words of encouragement from her trainer, so to keep herself going Breck began thinking of the reason she was enduring this – her father's face flashed through her mind, then her mother's, and then she tried to picture what her unborn brother or sister may have looked like. Would they have had red hair like her and Kenrick? Would they have been skinny and freckled as she was? Then she imagined Cerdic, the malicious and distasteful look in his eyes every time he looked upon her when she was a child, and scowled as she managed to complete the second circuit of the training.

"Another round." Tristan said before leaning against the fence leisurely, beginning to look a bit bored.

Breck dropped the barrel, shot him a glare, and then took off running.

Some teacher he was. She had expected him to teach her new moves with her sword or perhaps how to shoot multiple arrows at the same time, something she'd never been able to accomplish. Part of her had even thought they might consult with one another first to discuss her strengths and weaknesses and determine the best approach. But no, the know it all seemed to think he knew exactly what she needed without even discussing it with her and now he had the audacity to look bored with what they were doing. If he was concerned about her well being when facing Cerdic, he had a very odd way of showing it.

"Lift." He commanded her when she completed her last lap.

By this point, her throat was parched, her muscles were burning, and the sweat on her body was starting to soak through onto her clothes. She didn't see any sort of flask nearby and she suddenly wondered if Tristan had provided her with anything to drink or if that had been her own problem to take care of.

"I require water." She told him breathlessly.

With a quirk of an eyebrow, Tristan simply asked, "You expect your enemy to provide you with drink while fighting, Saxon?" Then he motioned for her to proceed with what he instructed her to do.

Breck found herself pulling a face at him in pure frustration and at the fact he'd called her out on her Saxon lineage. Though he had saved her from Gerland, though he was helping her to prepare for the most important mission of her life and had been following her to make sure no harm came to her, Breck was beginning to become vastly irritated with the man that preoccupied her thoughts so often. She understood if he wanted to be tough, but at this rate, he would kill her before Cerdic or any other Saxon was ever presented with the opportunity – and it was only their first day training together.

With a grimace, she managed to get the barrel up again and began repeating the now excruciatingly painful moves. She had slowed down considerably by this point and she was beginning to struggle with holding the barrel. Once or twice the object almost slipped from her fingers and onto her head, but she managed to keep it grasped as steadily as her aching fingers would allow and glared at Tristan as he stood before her, watching her with an unimpressed look on his face. It was all she could do not to collapse, but she refused to look like a weakling in front of him.

"Faster." He barked at her.

"To hell with you." She growled out through gritted teeth.

He actually smirked at her words and tilted his head as he watched her. "Are you angry?"

Breck ignored him, closing her eyes against the pain and trying to concentrate on not failing miserably at the task he'd appointed her. Up, down, up, down, up, down. She was _not _going to his Tristan, she was _not _going to hit Tristan, she was _not going to hit Tristan. _

"I asked a question." He spoke up again. "Are – you – angry – woman?"

She _was _going to hit Tristan.

With a cry of anger, Breck finally pulled the barrel into her chest and then launched it at him with the remaining strength she had. He caught it easily enough and though she had half a mind to launch herself at him next, her body wouldn't allow it. Instead, she hunched over again, panting for air as her muscles cried in protest at the throw. "Aye, you insufferable oaf." She snapped at him. "Pleased with yourself?"

Tristan tossed the barrel away carelessly and then moved closer, hooking a hand underneath her chin and forcing her to stand up to her full height.

Despite her irritation with him, despite the torture he'd just put her through, the feel of his fingers on her skin sent a wild jolt of awareness throughout her entire being. His touch was not gentle, but it was also not harsh, and it was a move she had never expected on his part. He was close, so close that she could see the amber flakes in his eyes again, and now she found herself heaving for breath because of an entirely different reason.

"There is anger inside of you." He said slowly, an unreadable look in his eyes. "And you must learn to channel it. You may find, when all else fails, that it shall save your life." He released her in the next moment and then turned on his heel to leave. "We continue tomorrow." Tristan called over his shoulder before continuing on.

* * *

Breck barely managed to drag herself to the pond to bathe herself and wash her clothes before collapsing in the tall grass while her attire dried in the sun. Tristan or Gawain or any other man that followed her be damned; she was too tired and her mind was too jumbled to care about her state of undress just then.

She had given up trying to decipher Tristan by this point. It had been clear as day from the beginning that the man had many layers to him and now she was sure that it would take a lifetime to try and figure out who he _really _was past his rough exterior. Dagonet had said that no one was ever able to tell what motivated him and she found herself believing him whole-heartedly. Why had he accepted the task of preparing her to fight Cerdic if it would only bore him? Why would he treat her so cruelly and insult her so much only to end their session the way he did? She suspected he'd made her so angry to try and prove a point, but if he continued it would only earn him a beating. And then there was the look he'd given her – though it was hard to determine, it had not been malicious or condescending. She really couldn't put a description on it, if she were to be honest.

With a pained sound, she decided to drag her clothes back on and find a way to get her aching body back to her quarters. She was exhausted from the conditioning he had put her through and all she wanted was to curl up in her bed and lay there until the sun came up the next morning. If their session tomorrow was going to be anything like it was today, Breck knew very well that she would need to a get a good night of rest and, with a cringe, she prayed to God that she would be able to lift even a finger the next day. Otherwise, she was going to be in for another rough afternoon.

* * *

**A/N: I just can't believe the response I'm getting to this story. The amount of hits is absolutely incredible and I love all you reviewers so much that it makes me want to hug every last one of you. E-hugs! You guys make me so happy!**


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

**And warning: This chapter contains a few gruesome details.**

* * *

Much like she had suspected, just about every muscle from the neck down was beyond sore when Breck awoke the next morning. She needed to relieve herself and her stomach was growling out of hunger, but there was absolutely no chance of her dragging herself out of bed just then. So instead she laid there, willing the pain to subside so she could function again, and thought back to what Tristan had said the day before.

_There is anger inside you. And you must learn to channel it._

Breck was fully aware of the darkness that rested in her heart. Any hopes of a carefree existence had been stripped from her when she was a child and her life had never been the same. She had to wonder, though, if there had _ever _been hope for a normal life. She was the daughter, the only offspring, of one of the most widely known Saxon warriors – with the amount of enemies Kenrick had made, would she have ever found solitude even if he had lived? Time and again Breck found herself shunned because of her heritage. People believed that because she was part Saxon that she was bloodthirsty, malicious, and cruel. Truth be told, she _was _these things to an extent but only because of the adversity she'd endured throughout her life. Everything about her seemed to work in a vicious cycle – she was shunned because of her father and resentful due to the hardships in her past, but the hardships in her past had only occurred because the man responsible thought her existence a blasphemy and resented _her_ for her divided heritage. The fact that she and her father had all but renounced their ancestry had more then likely been what had sealed their fate with Cerdic.

She was damned if she claimed her Saxon blood, yet had also been damned because she and her father had not.

Taking Tristan's words into consideration, she thought back to the moment that was still clear as day in her head – the moment Kenrick's body had been brought back to her.

* * *

_Breck looked out along the rolling, grassy plains of the land around their small home, wishing and praying with all her might that her father would return alive and well. He had been gone for almost a fortnight and she had been driven nearly to the point of insanity waiting for him. Was the battle still going? Had her father prevailed over Cerdic? Would they finally be able to live peacefully after so many years? _

_She turned away from the foggy, muggy landscape before her and then went back into her home, taking a seat at the table and staring into the fire for a long while, trying in vain to pass the time faster and failing miserably. _

_The memory of Cerdic was still clear in her memory – with his long hair, long beard, and his cold and unforgiving stare. She had never known him to be a nice man to any extent and he constantly looked upon her as though she were a pest, a mere rock in his shoe. She knew that he hated her because of her 'tainted blood' and he had made it all too clear when he had ordered the massacre of her family. She despised the man. Hated him with every fiber of her being and she hoped that her father would deliver him a slow, painful death in retaliation to his travesties. _

_Some time later, the sound of an approaching wagon made her ears perk up. She turned her head to listen better before deciding that there was definitely somebody approaching her home. With a grin, she stood from the table and rushed out of the door, running out in the foggy afternoon weather before stopping to search for whoever was approaching. At once, she spotted a large wagon being hauled by two large horses. There were men that she recognized, but could not recall the names of, walking along side it and she searched each face quickly for the one she wished to see more then anything. _

_With a sinking feeling, she realized that her father was not walking amongst them. Furthermore, their grave expression finally registered in her head and she could only stand rooted to the spot as they approached. _

_She knew it then – her father was dead. _

_The man at the lead was the one who came up to her. He had a grim look on his bloodied, battered face and he stared at her for a long moment before placing a large hand on her skinny shoulder. "Breck…dear, young Breck…" _

_The tears filled her eyes at once and she turned her gaze on the wagon. There was no cover on it and she could clearly see where the body of her father had been placed. The men around her dead father looked uncomfortable and in as bad of condition as the man in front of her, but Breck could only stare at the large sheet that covered Kenrick. With a numb feeling in her bones, she found herself moving towards the wagon so slowly that it felt like it took hours to reach it. _

_She was alone. She had no more family left in this large, imposing world. _

"_I would not…" A man suggested when she reached for the sheet. _

_Breck barely even heard him and ignored his warning as she pulled the sheet away, her stomach turning when she saw what was left of her father. His vast arms, which had once been strong and a source of comfort for her, were detached from his body now and his legs held a similar fate where they lay placed with his other limbs in a row on the wagon. There was a large gaping wound in his torso, possibly the death blow. His head, she realized with a sick feeling in her stomach, was not there. _

_Why had they brought him to her like this? Why had they laid him out in such a way? Where was her father's head now? Breck hadn't realized that she had actually voiced her thoughts until one of the other men spoke up. _

"_The Saxons placed him this way…we were spared so he could be returned to you." The man trailed off gently. "His head now rests with Cerdic." _

_Cerdic had purposefully made sure that she would see her father slain in this horrendous manner. He knew she would still be living and had wanted to send her a message. Breck looked to the man that had spoken but he couldn't hold her gaze for long, looking instead at his feet. Did he feel guilty for his participation in this presentation of her deceased kin? Did he know that this was this Cerdic's way of telling her what he had in store for her and felt sorry for her? _

"_Leave me." Breck finally said, turning her eyes back to her father's disfigured body. _

"_Breck –"_

"_Leave me!" She finally screeched, the tears beginning to flow freely. _

_The men were on their way back to their homes in an instant and she watched them leave before collapsing on the ground next to the wagon._

_Breck must have sat and cried by the wagon for hours, weeping for the fate of her family, her father, and for what may lay ahead in her own future. Her entire life had been ruined because of the cruelty of one man and she knew she couldn't stay there in the small village anymore; it would have only been logical for Cerdic to send a party to follow the men and locate her. If Breck didn't flee, she would surely wind up dead and then her father's death would be in vain. She would have to leave everything behind again; the home she had built with her father would now have to become a distant memory, just as all the memories of happier times with her mother and father before Cerdic had destroyed their world._

_Breck was going to kill him, she resolved right then and there. _

_Cerdic was evil; he had destroyed her life and the lives of countless others. He took what he wanted, gave nothing in return, and killed men, women, and children with no regard or remorse. He was a monster that needed to be dealt with and she would see the job carried out even if it meant having to give her own life to do so. _

_With that vow, she finally managed to pull herself together enough to bury her father. She handled his body with as much care as she could, feeling angry and determined as she buried him outside of their small home. She had the brief notion that no thirteen-year-old should have to bury the pieces of their father's body, but nothing had ever gone according to plan in her life. She'd watched her pregnant mother be killed before her very eyes, had nearly been killed herself, and now this. With each body part that she put in the hole she'd buried, she felt her resolve to kill Cerdic growing stronger and stronger, and felt the hate sinking deeper into her heart. _

_Breck was able to salvage a necklace from him that her mother had bestowed upon Kenrick in their marriage and clasped it around her neck before finally picking up the sword that had been laying next to his body on the wagon. Others might have used it to mark the place in which his mangled body now rested, but Breck only strapped the sheath to her waist and held the sword in her hand, claiming it for her own now and intent that this would be the very blade that destroyed Cerdic. Breck then moved to stand before the grave, her eyes staring unblinkingly into the freshly dug up soil, and then placed the edge of the blade against her palm._

"_I swear to you, father, that Cerdic will meet his end by this hand and this blade." She said firmly. Then she swiped the blade across her palm, opening up a wide wound with a grimace. "If it is the last thing I do, I will avenge our family." _

_Then she dripped her blood on top of the grave to seal her oath._

* * *

Breck raised her right palm up to eye level and inspected the long scar that rested there. That day had been the turning point in her life – it was when she had gone from a girl with hopes and dreams of marriage and a family to a hateful and vengeance filled young woman. It had been a while since she had allowed herself to reflect upon this memory and doing so had served its purpose – she felt her determination for her mission renew itself in a way she hadn't felt in months.

Breck knew that coming to the Wall was what was meant to be. Her blind hatred and disregard for everyone she crossed had left her alone, unprotected, and impulsive in her actions to see those she despised brought to justice and this had caused her a lot of problems in the past. Yet coming here, being reunited with Arthur, and befriending the knights had opened up her mind to her old self – she knew what it was to trust and have allies again and what it was to be able to feel something other then hatred. She knew that with Tristan's help and Arthur's alliance, she would be more prepared then ever for Cerdic when the time finally came.

And then the man would have to answer for the crimes he'd committed against her.

* * *

The next session went much the same, with Tristan pushing her body to the point of exhaustion. She was not as quick to anger this time around in her new determination, but Tristan seemed to sense that there had been a shift in her and used it to his advantage, pushing her even harder. The pain was intense, her muscles protested, but she did not try to back down from his commands. Cerdic was much bigger and stronger and far more experienced then she was and it would take a lot to bring the Saxon down. She had to use the months that they were at the Wall to her advantage to make sure she was in the best possible condition to defeat him, even if it meant allowing Tristan to practically torture her.

Her lack of outward anger only seemed to spurn Tristan on further and he began circling her as she worked, reminding her of all the ways she might fail until she finally began snapping back at him in irritation. She knew he only did it to try and show her how to control her anger and use it to her advantage, but she was already in a hostile state of mind from the memory of her dead father and his words had her burning with anger soon enough. And even though his methods appeared to be working just as he planned, she would _never _admit it to his face.

When Tristan told her she could stop, Breck all but collapsed on the ground. She didn't care what she looked like just then, lying in the middle of the training arena as the sun beat down on her overhead; it just felt good to finally get a break and rest for a moment. The conditioning had not been any easier on her today but she knew that if they kept at it, eventually she would begin to see the benefits of the work she was doing. Breck just had to trust that she wouldn't wind up dead from exhaustion before that time came.

"You need nutrition." She heard Tristan say as he stood over her. Breck cracked an eye open to look at him, blinded momentarily by the sun. "Eat." He commanded, holding out an apple to her.

Breck managed to raise her arm to accept it and her grimace of pain didn't go unnoticed to him. She began to eat the apple slowly as the anger in her dissipated some and her breathing returned to normal. Tristan moved away from her again and she watched as he went to collect the barrel she'd been lifting for the past two days and then plopped it on the ground near her. With a groan, she shook her head and gave him a hard look. If he intended to make her work more, she was going to kill him.

"If I am to lift that barrel once more…" She growled.

Tristan had a tiny smirk on his face but did not instruct her to continue working with the object. Instead, she noted with a sigh of relief, he had only brought it over to use as a chair before he sat down and started eating an apple himself. Considering they had spent the majority of the past two days insulting one another and bickering non-stop during their session, it was a bit strange to sit in an almost companionable silence with him now. His demeanor had changed from the tough trainer into a more relaxed state and she welcomed the transformation. The sun was doing wonders for the way he looked right then and she used the distraction of his attractiveness to ignore the pain in her muscles and to finally pull her thoughts away from the memory of her father.

"You are not as hopeless as I presumed." He said slowly, focused on his apple as he peeled it.

Deciding it would be better not to be caught ogling him, Breck took another bite of her apple and closed her eyes. "Is this so?" She asked him dully, not too taken aback with the tone of the backwards compliment.

"Others may have renounced the conditioning by now." He continued. "I can sense your determination…your stubbornness may serve its purpose yet."

Breck opened her eyes and couldn't help the pleased smile that worked its way onto her face. Had she heard him correctly? Was he almost _complimenting_ her on her performance? Had she proven to him that she was worthy after all? "Do I find you impressed, Sarmatian?" She asked him cockily.

Tristan froze in his movements and shot her a sharp look that clearly told her not to get ahead of herself. She only laughed and shook her head, wondering at the mood swings of this man. Between her stitching him, Arthur's birthday, and their training, Tristan had actually opened up to her some over the past handful of days; but it was obvious he was still reluctant to let her in any further. She had prepared herself for the work cut out for her in her attempt to befriend Tristan and she knew their time training together, alone, would be prime opportunities that she needed to take full advantage of. She would just have to tread carefully and choose her words wisely. Otherwise, she suspected, he would revert back into his shell and shut her out.

He turned his eyes away from her again to focus on his apple and he was silent for so long that she didn't think he would speak again at all. When he did, the question caught her off guard. "How many have died by your blade?" He asked.

Breck frowned and began to try to remember. She had never really kept track of such a number since she hadn't deemed it important, but there had been plenty of men _and _women she'd been forced to kill whenever travelling throughout the foreign countries the Saxon army had lead her through. At first, she had found killing to be quite bothersome, but eventually she began to grow accustomed to the feeling of ending another person's existence. Everyone Breck had killed had either tried to kill her first or had wronged her in some way – the inner Saxon in her did not feel guilty about her actions anymore and hadn't in years.

"I do not recall now." She finally said with a shrug. "No less then fifty." She estimated. With a wince, she managed to pull herself up into a sitting position. Her muscles protested at the move, and she was positive that she saw Tristan smirk to himself as he watched her, but she simply began trying to work the tenderness out of her muscles with her hands and regarded him thoughtfully. "What of you?"

"What of me?" He countered.

"Unquestionably, you know the stories told of you." Breck responded. "Rumors of your skills in battle and your thirst for blood…" The statement earned her a quirk of his eyebrow but she brushed it off, looking at him quizzically. "How many have died at your hand?"

Tristan chewed on his bite of apple slowly and regarded her for a moment, looking like he wasn't sure he wanted to answer her or not. "Hundreds." He finally said after a long pause.

Breck wasn't very surprised to hear the answer, seeing as he'd been fighting and killing by Arthur's side for nearly fifteen years now. Breck eyed him, taking in his unremorseful expression, and found herself wishing that he _would _let her in. What had he seen in his days? How many times had he been close to death? She remembered the few scars that had been visible to her when she had been stitching him up in the infirmary and wondered how many more he had concealed under his clothes. Breck looked down at her scarred hand pensively then, one of the many that she had on her own body, and realized that she and Tristan may be more similar then she had originally thought. Both of them had lead hard and difficult lives and both became cold, ruthless killers when the occasion called for it. Maybe they had more to offer one another then either of them realized.

"You are Saxon…" He trailed off.

"Aye, as you well know." She said, reminding him that he had pointed out this very fact once or twice through their session together. It did make her wonder why he continued to bring up the fact and she frowned at him, wondering if it was something he found bothersome. "This perturbs you?"

Tristan shook his head. "It merely adds to the curiosity of your story." He explained.

Breck almost laughed at that. Tristan, the mysterious Sarmatian man that she had absolutely no hope of figuring out and who had thrown her for a loop more times then she could count, thought _her _story was curious? She didn't know what surprised her more – that Tristan was interested in her past or that he had openly admitted to it.

"And how much of my story have you learned?" She questioned. "How much has Arthur relayed to you?"

The look he sent in her direction next made her stomach begin to flip over nervously. "Enough." He said slowly, his piercing gaze keeping her rooted to the spot. "Enough to know there is more to you then meets the eye."

They stared at each other for a long moment until Breck cleared her throat and gave him a half smile. "I believe this may also be true for you." She admitted.

Was this the side of Tristan that he normally reserved for his fellow knights? Maybe, finally, Breck had proven to him that she was someone he could trust. He had never conversed with her as much as he was now and she had certainly never seen him so open with anyone other then the men he fought with. Not to mention that the look that he was sending her way – she couldn't tell if it was a look of approval or if he was still trying to figure out what was going on inside of her head, or both, but it was beginning to make her feel almost bashful because of its intensity. She was sure that they had reached an understanding of some sort just then, but then a tiny, small part of her suddenly wondered this – did Tristan feel the same pull to her that she did to him?

Breck's heart was feeling dangerously close to getting stuck in her throat, so she turned her eyes away and stood up slowly, grimacing when her muscles fought against the movements. He watched as she began stretching, trying to relieve the ache that had settled in her body from the exercises, then frowned a bit when she winced and rotated her right shoulder a couple of times. She had dislocated this particular shoulder some three years ago and, from time to time, the long-healed injury tended to give her a bit of trouble. It was nothing serious, but enough to make her wince again as she tried to stretch it.

"Are you injured?" He asked, standing up and coming towards her.

"No." She said, shaking her head quickly. "My shoulder merely has approached its limit." She explained. "It came out of place three years past."

Tristan 'hmph'ed and then came to stand at her side. She wasn't sure what he was planning on doing but then sucked in a deep breath when his much larger hand came to rest on her shoulder, his fingers feeling the tendons and joints as he studied her with a concentrated expression on his handsome face. His touch immediately sent a jolt of awareness through her and she wondered if this was going to become a habit of his, since this was the second time in two days he'd come into physical contact with her. She couldn't say that she would necessarily mind if it did…

"It was fixed?" He asked, inspecting her shoulder, seemingly oblivious to her nervousness.

Did he really have no idea what his proximity did to her?

"Aye." She managed out, wincing when he pulled her arm at a funny angle to stretch it out. "It is only bothersome from time to time…" She managed out through gritted teeth. "As in _now_." Breck added scornfully when he didn't stop his prodding.

He didn't say anything to that; he simply placed his other hand on her back to brace her and then began stretching her arm even further. The movement was painful, but one of those good pains that let you know you were making progress with easing a troublesome injury, and Breck squeezed her eyes shut against it until he released her. Immediately her shoulder felt better and though she didn't want to prove him right, yet again, she finally looked over her shoulder at him and reluctantly grumbled out her gratitude.

"Thank you." She said, rotating her shoulder again. "It is better."

"You should allow Dagonet to inspect it." He suggested.

She was about to say that it didn't seem necessary to involve Dagonet when she realized that they had a small audience. Galahad and Gawain were coming through the gate and, judging by their expressions, they must have just seen the interaction between her and Tristan; Gawain was looking back and forth between them fairly rapidly with an unpleased expression on his face while Galahad looked downright uncomfortable, looking at all three of them apprehensively. Breck noticed that Tristan straightened up as his comrades approached, puzzling her a little bit, but she brushed it off and smiled at her friends in greeting.

"Galahad, Gawain, good morrow." She said pleasantly.

"Hello, Breck, Tristan." Gawain responded with a nod, wiping the troubles expression off of his face before looking to his fellow Sarmatian. "I trust you did not hurt her?" He asked. The look on his face, to most, would appear to be teasing, but the edge in his gaze hinted that he was being entirely serious.

"No, he did not." Breck said, waving her hand dismissively before Tristan could say anything.

"Never fear, friend, Breck is not as fragile as she appears." Galahad cut in. "Brave woman, you are, training with the likes of this one." Galahad said good-naturedly, trying to ease the tension by slapping Tristan on the back in a friendly way.

The scout spared Galahad a brief smirk but the tension didn't leave his shoulders. The way that he and Gawain were currently eyeing each other was making Breck feel just as uncomfortable as Galahad had looked a few moments ago and she didn't like the situation at all. She couldn't be sure what either of their expressions meant, but to her, it appeared that Gawain was sizing up Tristan. Tristan's expression was hard to discern but whatever it meant, she knew it wasn't good.

"Aye, well, tis not so horrible." She said with a laugh also attempting to lighten the mood, before turning to Tristan. "I require food – what say you to leaving these two to their training and joining me in the tavern for dinner?"

Tristan nodded once in agreement and then stepped around the two men without a word.

"We did not mean to disturb your session." Gawain said, though he didn't look very apologetic about it.

"It was concluded." She said before noticing that Tristan was well on his way and wasn't waiting for her. "Gents, we shall reconvene for supper?" She asked.

Once they both nodded in affirmation, Breck left them and jogged to catch up with Tristan, wincing at the pain this caused her aching body. He briefly acknowledged her when she fell into step next to him but they didn't say anything as they set off for the tavern. When she glanced behind her, she noticed that Galahad and Gawain seemed to be having an intense looking conversation and even from how far away she was, she could tell that Gawain was watching them.

If Gawain was jealous then perhaps leaving with Tristan hadn't been the best thing she could have done, but she had felt the need to separate the two men when she felt the tension growing and, honestly, if Gawain _was _envious it was his own problem. She might have thought she was overreacting to the behavior of the two Sarmatians if Galahad hadn't looked as uneasy with the situation as she had and she frowned, not liking the way the two friends had acted around one another. Gawain's response she could understand, since he was not shy about his flirting anymore. But Tristan? Unsurprisingly, she had no idea what motivated him to react the way he had but knew better then to question him on it. Then she realized that they would be dining together, alone, and she was swarmed with nervous feelings again as Tristan lead her into the tavern. It was one thing to be alone with Tristan while they were training but quite another when they were going about daily life.

Thankfully, both Lancelot and Dagonet were already there dining and after grabbing a plate of food each, she and Tristan took their seats next to them. They were pulled into conversation about how their sessions were going almost at once and Breck was glad for the distracting talk so that she would not continue to worry over Gawain and Tristan's interaction. She didn't know what the two men were feeling towards each other, but if it continued to happen, Breck feared that something would have to be said about it.

And that was not a conversation that she was ready to have with either man.

* * *

**A/N: To avoid confusion, I read that lunch was usually referred to as 'dinner' and dinner was referred to as 'supper'. **

**Writing Tristan is hard because I'm trying very hard to keep in character. How am I doing? **

**And thank you to my wonderful reviewers, both old and new! Nothing makes my day more then seeing someone enjoy my story so much!**


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

After three more sessions with Tristan, her muscles were finally beginning to grow accustomed to the rigorous training and their exercises were beginning to become easier for her. She could go longer for both the cardiovascular aspect and the strength training, and was beginning to make it through more circuits, which seemed to please Tristan enough. To reward her progress, he had stopped being so harsh on her verbally and had taken instead to introducing new moves for her to incorporate, such as weaving in and out of the wooden dummies while running or leaping over the barrel to work up her agility. She found these moves to actually be somewhat fun because her dexterity had always been her biggest ally and, though she tried to deny it, the fact that her ease with the new moves impressed Tristan made her feel extremely proud of herself.

"Good." Tristan complimented as she launched herself over the barrel and landed with a roll before bouncing back to her feet. "The case will be different when a sword is trained on you." He reminded her with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Breck rolled her eyes and laughed shortly, shaking her head as she brushed the dirt off of her clothes. Typical Tristan – the man could not give her a compliment without a hint of cynicism behind it. "As I well know."

There were no doubts about it – her relationship with Tristan had changed. All of the days alone together had caused them to actually form a friendship of sorts, albeit a bit of a strange one. Though they still bickered and nagged at one another whenever the occasion called for it, she could actually feel confident she was correct when she referred to him as her friend. He was mostly still reserved and there was much about him that she had yet to learn, but he treated her more like his equal rather then a thorn in his side.

It was bizarre to think about how things had changed in the month since she'd arrived. When she had come to Hadrian's Wall, it had been her plan to stay for a short wile, she had been quite taken with Gawain, and she and Tristan hadn't been able to be in the same room together without biting each other's heads off. Now she was more then comfortably settled in and, while she still harbored a crush on the ever-doting Gawain, she found herself looking forward to the times that she would see Tristan. In a weird way she felt privileged that the reserved scout had let her, of all people, into his life as a companion when he shunned anyone other then his fellow knights.

"Again." He instructed before crossing his arms and stepping out of the way.

Breck took off running and ran the course he'd laid out for her again – she ran the perimeter of the arena five times, wove between the dummies three times, and then finished by jumping the barrel as she just had. More often then not now, she had an audience while she was running the exercises, and when she finished she heard Galahad and Gawain whistling and cheering for her on the benches. She waved at them with a smile and then made her way back to Tristan, who appeared to be thinking of what he wanted her to do next.

He hadn't been thrilled by the fact that the other knights had started filtering in for their sessions together, seeing as they tended to distract her sometimes, but eventually he realized that their encouragement and cheers urged her to push herself even further. In the end, he had given up dismissing his comrades and let them observe. In regards to the way he and Gawain treated each other, their friendship seemed to have returned to a semi-normal state, though every now and again whenever they believed her to be oblivious Breck would catch them eyeing one another discreetly; Gawain usually seemed to be challenging him while Tristan often appeared irritated with the golden-haired knight. She couldn't be certain it was because of her, but Galahad's jibes led her to believe she was the cause of the friction between the two friends.

"Again, but when you finish, pitch the barrel the furthest your strength allows." Tristan finally instructed.

She ran the course again, waving to Galahad and Gawain when she went running past, and then did as Tristan had instructed. When she jerked the barrel up, pulling a face at the weight and then throwing it with all her might, even _she _was surprised at how much distance it had covered. Tristan's eyebrows raised a tick and he turned a slightly impressed look towards her while her friends on the benches gave her a standing ovation.

"You have improved much." Tristan said, coming towards her.

Breck wondered if this meant that they could move on from the conditioning and perhaps start to do something more exciting. "Shall we continue on to weapon training?" She asked hopefully.

"Perhaps." He mused.

"Breck! Breck!" A voice suddenly called, gathering her attention.

She turned and saw Devran running towards her, his arm in the air and something clutched in his hand as he waved it wildly. She wasn't sure what it was the boy had and, shared an unsure look with Tristan before she frowned and walked over to the gate to meet him, accepting the folded up piece of parchment when he thrust it into her hands. It was obviously a letter, but who would be writing to her?

"What be this?" Breck asked him curiously, before she turned it over to gaze at the seal on it. At once, she recognized the emblem in the wax and she felt her excitement grow in an instant.

"It came from the north." Devran said, clearly out of breath from his run. "It arrived just now."

Breck had nearly forgotten about the letter that she had sent out to her contact up north and slid her finger under the flap to break the seal. After hastily unfolding it, she scanned over the words quickly. The Saxons, as the letter reported, had taken over the lands of both the Swedes and the Norse and, with a jolt of excitement, she read of their next predicted destination – Briton. Breck looked up from the letter and stared into the surroundings around her with a far off look, her hands clasping the letter tightly as her mind began to go into overdrive.

This was the exact opportunity she had been waiting for. For years, she had tracked the Saxons through the Frankish Empire, the land of the Danes, and even almost as far as the very place her friends were from – Sarmatia. And now they were possibly coming to the very country that she had taken up residence in. Cerdic, unknowingly, was bringing himself directly to her and he may as well have been serving himself on a silver platter. The letter predicted they would be coming within the next few months and she shook her head at the irony of the entire situation. In a few months, Arthur would be finished with his duties here in Briton and would be free to help her with her mission concerning Cerdic. If she had not previously thought that her time at Hadrian's Wall was meant to be, she would have been convinced of it in this very moment.

"Breck?" A voice asked behind her. Breck turned and saw Galahad, Gawain, and Tristan standing behind her with similar expressions of concern and curiosity mixed on their faces. "What have you there?" Gawain asked, nodding to the letter in her hand.

"A note from a contact of mine to the north – I wrote him to acquire new intelligence on the Saxon movement some time ago." She explained, folding the letter carefully. Gawain, whom she had not told of her mission yet, looked thoroughly at a loss as to why she would be trying to gain information about the Saxons while Galahad and Tristan immediately looked interested. "He believes the Saxons mean to invade Briton." She finally said.

The three men shared concerned looks and she thought she heard Devran let out a squeak of fright behind her. "When?" Galahad asked.

"Two months, maybe three." She said with a shrug. "Yet the Saxons are nothing if not unpredictable." She explained when the knights looked everything but comforted by her words. "The date could arrive sooner or even later then foreseen, assuming they still intend to invade." With a sigh, Breck shot them a look and turned on her heel to leave. "I must speak with Arthur. Thank you for your haste with the letter, Devran."

"I will escort you." Gawain said quickly, stepping forward with a firm look on his face and then opening the gate for her. "We need to speak." He said quietly for only her to hear before waving a hand in parting to his comrades.

Breck had her suspicions as to why he wanted to speak with her – though she was sure that he knew of her Saxon heritage by this point, seeing as the men had unbelievably large mouths when they began drinking and usually teased her about it, he was unaware of the mission she had embarked on as far as she knew. He was giving her a very calculating look now that they were headed towards Arthur's quarters and once they had cleared the training arena, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her to a stop.

"You have kept secrets from me." Gawain accused.

"Gawain – "

"You promised me." He cut in quickly. "After Gerland almost raped you – " she cringed at his wordage but he continued anyway, " – you stood before me, almost in this very spot, and _promised_ me you would inform me if trouble were to find you again. And now I learn you are gathering information on the _Saxon army_?" He questioned her, looking angry with her. "What secret are you keeping from me, Breck?"

"The tale is a long one, Gawain." She said with a sigh. "But my tracking of the Saxons has occurred since before I knew you even existed." She explained. "It would be unjust of you to hold such a thing against me now."

Gawain stared at her incredulously for a long moment before sighing and crossing his arms. "I know you are part Saxon, I have heard the men say it. Tell me what I do not know."

After recounting to him who her father had been, her connection to Cerdic, and what her intentions for the man were, the look on Gawain's face changed many times in rapid precession – first he looked angry, then appalled, and then a look of determination took residence on his handsome face. He turned his eyes away eventually with a heavy sigh and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. She knew that he didn't think any differently of her just because of her ancestry but it was beginning to irk her that he hadn't said anything in regards to her plan yet. Finally, when the silence had stretched on for far too long, Breck spoke again.

"Gawain?" She asked uncertainly. "What are you thinking?"

Gawain turned his bright blue eyes back on her and then shook his head. "There are many thoughts that pass through my mind at this moment." He admitted. "I wish you had informed me sooner." He said with a stern look. "I am displeased to learn of your mission, for it is highly dangerous, but I also understand why Tristan now trains you." He continued. Then he nodded his head and a firm look of determination came onto his handsome face. "But most of all, I feel the desire to aid you in your quest."

Breck felt her heart sink into her stomach and shook her head quickly. "No, Gawain, you mustn't. You cannot." She argued hastily.

"Why?" He shot at her. "If the Saxons arrive when you say they will, I will be a free man and able to lead my life by my own choices." He argued back. "Why would you not accept my offer of help when I wish to give it willingly?"

This was the exact thing that she hadn't wanted to hear from any of the men, not when they were so close to finally obtaining their freedom. Breck and Arthur hadn't discussed how they would go about getting to Cerdic just yet, but she did not want to involve any of her Sarmatian friends in their mission when they would finally be able to return home and enjoy a normal life. How could Breck ask for their help without feeling like a selfish monster of a person? These men, who had given up so much, deserved the peace that waited for them when their servitude was over. How could she live with herself knowing that she was asking any of them to fight an entirely new battle that they never would have involved themselves in had she not befriended them?

Most of all, Gawain's motives for offering his services was what truly worried her as she stared at the handsome Sarmatian. If Gawain had never wanted to pursue her, if they had not been dancing around each other all this time, would he be as willing as he was now?

"What motivates you to offer your services?" Breck finally asked firmly.

Gawain fell silent for a long moment and then took a step towards her. She held her breath when his hand came to rest on her neck, his thumb brushing the length of her jaw, and watched as he shook his head at her in disbelief. "Do you really not know?" He asked quietly.

"Gawain…" She started to say again.

"Breck, from the moment we first met I have been enchanted by you." He said, cutting her off with an almost desperate look in his eyes. "I have never known a lady such as you, you fearsome, beautiful, incredible woman. Constantly you are in my thoughts and there is naught I can do to stop the effect you have on my heart. _You,_ Breck. No one else. Only ever _you_." He explained, his voice becoming rougher as he tried to convey how serious his feelings for her were. "I care for you more then I ever believed I could care for anyone. I would do _anything _for you, Breck. Certainly you _must _see this."

He fell silent and she knew that he was waiting for her reaction, but what should she say now? She had known Gawain wanted her, but she hadn't thought his feelings ran as deeply as they obviously did. Gawain was a good man and she felt confident that he could give her the life she had once dreamed of as a child – she knew that he would do what he could to make her feel happy, protected, and loved. He had been one of the first of her new friends that she had truly connected with, they had always gotten along perfectly, and she was always happy in the company of the handsome Sarmatian. So why, when Gawain was finally standing before her and offering himself to her, could she not bring herself to accept him?

Though she cared for Gawain, try as she might, she could not get Tristan out of her head at that exact moment.

They had finally begun to form a bond and a friendship and he had _finally _begun to let her in – it was in this moment that she admitted to herself that her feelings for Tristan ran much deeper then they did for Gawain. Tristan was the man who had truly captured her interest and if she were to be with anyone, he would be her first choice. Yet at the same time, Tristan had not given her a reason to believe she would ever be more to him then a mere companion; someone to train with or talk to over supper. He had made gestures towards her that let her know he liked her to an extent, but never in the same way as Gawain. It felt like a fool's hope to cling to the wish that Tristan may some day want her the way she wanted him, but she was not sure that she was ready to give up on him yet.

This was the fact that she found herself dwelling on – if Breck were to pursue any form of romantic relationship with Gawain, it would destroy any chances that she had with Tristan and she would never be more to him then a friend and, once they had all gone their separate ways, a distant memory. The notion did not sit well with her in the slightest.

"Gawain…" She finally said slowly. "This is…_not _unexpected." She began to explain. "But this is an offer I am not sure I am prepared to accept. My life, for so long, has been ruled by hatred for Cerdic and my wish to obtain revenge for the offenses he has committed against my family. I _do _care for you," Gawain looked encouraged when he heard this, "but I feel I cannot truly give my heart away until its broken pieces have been mended– and this will not happen until Cerdic has been brought to justice." She concluded firmly.

It wasn't the whole truth, but the excuse would at least buy her time to figure out which path she wanted to take.

Gawain nodded and looked a bit disappointed but did not move away from her. "Promise me you will consider my offer." He pleaded. "I beg of you."

Breck sighed and then nodded. "I promise you that I will not cast your feelings to the side. I will take them into great and careful consideration." Gawain looked relieved and then leaned forward and gave her a lingering kiss on her cheek. She closed her eyes at the feel of it, since it had been so long since someone had been affectionate with her in this way, and then offered him a small smile when he pulled away.

He cleared his throat, looking a bit bashful now, and then returned her smile. "It is a relief to finally make my feelings known." He said with a short laugh and a nod. "I will leave you to your business now..." He said, dropping his hand from her neck so that he could grasp both of hers within his own. "I will see you for supper?" He asked.

"Aye." She agreed.

Gawain stared at her for a long moment and she had the distinct feeling that he was contemplating kissing her. Instead, to her relief, he pulled her hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss first to the left one and then the right before releasing her entirely and walking away from her. Breck watched him go, waving at him when he glanced at her over his shoulder, before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh.

Things had just gotten far more complicated.

* * *

As it turned out, by the time she located Arthur to share her new information on the Saxons, he was in the middle of gathering his things and about to round up his knights to leave and carry out an order he'd just received from Rome. He had been vexed to read the letter she'd received, but told her the conversation would have to wait until he had returned so they could discuss it properly. Breck had then avoided the stables, being unable to pluck up her courage to see either Gawain _or _Tristan, and hidden herself away at her favorite pond until the knights had left the Wall. She was sure Jols would be upset with her for not showing up to help, but facing his wrath seemed much more appealing then having to face the two men that she now was being forced to choose between.

She threw a rock into the pond, watching the ripples grow and spread throughout the water, and then turned her eye back to muggy, gloomy weather around her that was uncannily fitting for her mood at that moment.

Everything that had been plaguing her was happening at the same time, and seeing as she had been the butt of all of fate's jokes recently, she should have known it would play out like this. Of course Gawain would make his feelings known the same day she found out that Cerdic was almost within her grasp. Of course he wanted to make her his own now that Tristan was finally letting her in – in fact, she wouldn't be surprised if her friendship with Tristan was one of the factors that lead him to telling her how he felt. She had been expecting him to come to her about his affections soon or later, but now that he had finally admitted his feelings, she had absolutely no idea what to do. She had promised him that she would contemplate his offer and she would hold true to her word, but how could she possibly come to a decision?

The two men in question were so completely different from each other. Gawain was outgoing, boisterous, doting, and it was always pleasant to spend time with him. Tristan was quiet, mysterious, and usually quite rude to anyone that he crossed paths with, but had shown her that he was capable of companionship if it was done on his own terms. Both men were undeniably handsome but when it came to her relationship with Gawain, there was just something…missing. Any woman would be thrilled to have his attention and have him as a husband – why could Breck not find the motivation to choose him?

Her thoughts turned to Tristan, the way she felt every time he touched her or stood close to her, and even the mere memory of it made her heart begin to race. With Tristan there was desire and longing and a spark that simply was not present when she thought of Gawain. Their new friendship had only strengthened these feelings until she found herself wanting to forgo her previous resolve to not be involved with anyone and see what became of their companionship. Then again, Tristan had never hinted that he had romantic feelings for her. Even if he did, which she wasn't confident was an actual possibility, the man was so secretive that Breck didn't even believe he would tell her.

But the way he looked at her sometimes, or the fact that he'd let her in made her wonder if it _could _be possible…

With another heavy sigh, Breck flopped onto her back and stared up at the sky.

Could she give herself to Gawain when she knew that she harbored affections for Tristan? Would it be fair to Gawain when she knew that he wouldn't have all of her heart? Furthermore, was it fair to _her _if she didn't even allow herself the opportunity to be with Tristan?

Breck closed her eyes and found herself wishing she could have her mother with her right then. Emer had always known what to do with every situation that came at her. With a small, sad smile on her face, Breck thought back to one of the few memories that she still had of the woman.

* * *

_Breck, five, sat with her chin propped up in her hand, watching with interest as Emer stood over the fire in their quaint home and warmed up a spare bit of meat for dinner. The woman was beautiful; her dark hair was almost perfect with its wavy texture and fell almost to her hips when not in a braid, the deep blue of her eyes always shone with kindness and warmth, and she possessed a curvy, womanly body that turned many heads. Breck hoped that some day she might look like her mother. It didn't seem likely, since she'd inherited so many of her father's traits, but maybe if she wished hard enough it would happen._

_When Emer turned away from the fire, she cast a look out of the window and it was easy to see the distress on her pretty face. When the woman noticed her daughter watching her, though, she quickly wiped the look from her face and smiled instead. _

"_What plagues your thoughts, little flame?" Emer asked in the lilting Gaelic she often used at home, referring to Breck by her favorite pet-name. _

"_I wish to look like you." Breck said with a sigh. "I wish to be beautiful."_

_Emer smiled and came over to smooth down her wild curls. "You _are_, little love." She said. "And some day a man shall fall so wholly in love with your beauty, inside and out, that he shan't know what to do with himself."_

_Breck smiled, feeling encouraged and sat up straighter. "I shall too have a husband? And a family?" _

"_Of course." Emer said before sitting down next to her at the table. She grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to it before giving her a knowing look. "But you must tread carefully, my dear." She warned. "For the women of our line are cursed." She said dramatically, but with a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. _

_The effect of her words was obviously just as Emer had hoped for, judging by the amusement on her face – Breck gaped, her eyes wide, and scooted closer with interest. Breck did not know any of her relatives outside of her mother and father, so any time her forebears were mentioned, it was always something that gained her attention. "Cursed? How?" _

"_Warriors are our greatest weakness." Emer revealed. "My father was a warrior, and his father before him. Our blood holds no resistance to them." _

_Breck tilted her head in confusion. "This is why you love father?" _

_Emer smiled and shook her head. "Not the only reason. I love your father because my heart chose him. There was naught I could do to prevent it." She clarified. "And just as mine did, your heart will some day choose another – with or without your consent. You must follow it, for it will never lead you astray." _

_Breck thought this over, her young mind reeling with the information. "How will I know when it has chosen?" _

"_Trust in this – when you love another, you will know." _

* * *

Breck opened her eyes again and wondered at how correct her mother had been. Warriors were, in fact, their weakness. Yet as far as her heart choosing whom it wanted to love? She wasn't sure that she was convinced of that just yet. Love was not something that she had felt for a very long time and the concept of being _in love _was an emotion that she had never known. There was no possible way that she could be in love with Tristan – she had known him for barely over a month and she knew next to nothing about him. The idea that she could love him, when they had only just begun to be friends, seemed preposterous to her.

_Just as mine did, you heart will some day choose another – with or without your consent_.

Breck rubbed her face and then shook her head. "I _have _made a mess of things, have I not, mother?"

* * *

**A/N: Hope this wasn't a totally lame chapter! Had to throw in a little mom-daughter moment, because everyone needs a little mom love from time to time. **

**Aw, Gawain. Being so super sweet. **

**And every time I get a review, I make a noise that sounds like this – EEP! So let's see how many strange noises I get to make now. Review, my lovelies! **

**P.S. Anadora – if Mads Mikkelsen hadn't been married for literally the entire time I've been living...it'd be on like Donkey Kong.**


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck decided, after much contemplation, that she would wait and see if anything progressed any further with Tristan before she made a decision about what to do with Gawain's confession. If Tristan made any sort of romantic gestures towards her (an idea that made her scoff doubtfully any time she considered it), then she would confess her own affections to him and hope for the best.

Should Tristan reject her, then after Cerdic was taken care of Gawain would be a worthy choice for a companion. The fact that she was treating Gawain as a second choice when he had only ever been wonderful to her sounded horrible even to Breck, but what else was she to do? She had finally allowed herself to consider the idea of becoming romantically involved with a man and when the time came to make her decision, she wanted to be sure that it was the right man she was choosing. She didn't know if she loved Tristan, or if there was any shred of hope he may feel anything romantic towards her, but she was willing to find out. She still had time to sort everything out, so she didn't want to make a hasty decision that she would end up regretting.

"Are you well? You have not been yourself since the men left." Vanora said, frowning over at her younger friend.

Breck glanced over at her and nodded with a small smile. "Aye. I have merely been preoccupied with my own musings." She explained before handing over one of the shirts she'd just cleaned for Vanora to lay out.

Vanora reached for the garment slowly, eyeing her, and then took the shirt. The kids were splashing about in the pond, having abandoned the mission of taking a bath to instead dunk each other and play. Their exuberance for life in general was refreshing to see and Breck grinned and waved when one of the children waved at her. "These musings," Vanora started, catching the younger redhead's attention again, "have they regards to two Sarmatians?"

"Aye." Breck confirmed after a moment of hesitation.

"Do you wish to enlighten me?"

"My apologies – but no."

Her friend looked rather offended but Breck merely shrugged at her with an apologetic look on her face. She knew Vanora only wanted to offer her advice, as she usually did on most subjects, but Breck feared the woman may judge her for the way she was handling Gawain's affections. Not to mention that Vanora seemed to love to gossip to her lover about the things she and Breck discussed, and the last thing she needed was Bors spouting off to one of the men in question about her plans to try to pursue Tristan before deciding if she would accept Gawain.

"Well…" Vanora said haughtily.

"I mean no offence." Breck responded. "The subject is…fragile. And of great importance. It must be treated with the utmost care." She explained.

Vanora seemed to comprehend just how important Breck's troubles were then and nodded, her expression softening. "I understand."

Breck smiled at her thankfully and they continued on doing the laundry they had brought without much conversation after that.

Numerous times, Breck's eyes turned to the surrounding landscape, searching for any signs of the knights amongst the foggy, dreary weather but to no avail. They had been gone for just shy of a week this time. It worried her that they had been gone for so long, assuming they'd had to travel far and could be faced with more and more dangers, but since they hadn't been forced to rush back because of medical reasons she had to trust that nothing had happened to them. She sighed, thinking about her friends, and not for the first time berated herself for not seeing them off. If something _did _happen to one of them, she would never forgive herself for not saying goodbye. The thought was a morbid one but Breck had lost far too many people that she cared about not to be paranoid on matters such as these.

"Where has this order taken them, I wonder?" Breck asked slowly, scrubbing the shirt in her hands forcefully to get a stain out.

"I never know." Vanora responded. "I never _wish _to know…" Eleven made a gurgling sound from where he was nestled snuggly in the baby sling around Vanora's chest and she cooed at the child for a moment, masking the worry that had worked its way onto her face.

Breck watched her for a moment and then turned her eyes away. She knew what Vanora was feeling – now that she had finally admitted to herself how she really felt about Tristan, she found herself worrying often about his safety. He was smart and stealthy, so she was confident he would make it out of most predicaments, but it didn't do much to abate the concern in her bones. Was this why her mother had worried her to tread carefully all those years ago? Because warriors like Tristan always stood the risk of not returning home alive? Though the memories were hazy, Breck could remember how anxious her mother would become whenever Kenrick was off fighting some wayward battle. The woman would often be restless and participate in any mundane task just to keep herself preoccupied. Breck used to find it amusing, but it wasn't so silly now that she was the one acting in such a way.

Nine, Vanora's second to youngest daughter, decided that moment would be a prime opportunity to start vomiting, gaining the attention of the two women. Breck watched as Vanora heaved, looking concerned, and then scooped the child up to see what was ailing the young girl. When it was clear that something was wrong with the child, Breck waved her friend away and told her she would finish with the laundry and return it to her home to hang-dry, and that she could leave to tend to Nine.

Breck was happy for the solitude once the noisy brood was gone and took a deep breath, glancing out over the landscape again before resuming her task. She hoped that the knights would return soon – all of this worrying was beginning to take its toll on her. She hadn't been sleeping well, plagued with bad dreams centered around the death of each knight on most nights, and her lack of sleep was effecting the training that she'd been trying to keep up with in Tristan's absence. It wasn't as enjoyable without Tristan there to bark orders at her (which it was strange to her she found it fun at all) but she didn't want to fall behind and have to start over whenever he returned. Plus, it was a good way to get some of the anxiety out of her.

When she finally finished washing Vanora's laundry, she folded the sopping wet clothes up into the basket and then headed off to Vanora's to hang them to dry. Vanora had taken the morning off to take care of her chores and she knew that the woman would be expected in the tavern now that it would be time to serve dinner, so Breck decided to pop in to let the other tavern workers know that her friend would be along as soon as Nine was taken care of. Breck figured she may as well look after the children for the older redhead after that, since Jols didn't need her in the stables and she had already done her training for the day.

As she made her way through town, some of the townsfolk waved at her in greeting. Now that the incident with Gerland was practically forgotten, a lot of the people around her had lightened up considerably. It was a nice change to be treated kindly, but she assumed that a lot of them were nice just so no harm would find them at her hand or the hand of Tristan, whom they all pretty much avoided like the plague.

" – messin' with my business, the Celt bitch. Comin' in here, battin' her eyes, actin' all innocent – makes me sick."

Breck froze and quirked an eyebrow at the statement that reached her ears. She had just been about to turn the corner to head towards the tavern when she heard the negative comment about her and she realized as she looked around that she was near what was commonly referred to as 'The Whore House'. With a smirk and roll of her eyes, Breck leaned against the building and decided to listen and see what else they had to say about her.

"Who do ya think she's sleepin' with? Gawain or Tristan?" Another voice asked.

"My guess? The lot of them."

Breck didn't really feel offended since it was the town wenches, of all people, talking about her and she chuckled quietly to herself as the gaggle of women laughed at the accusation.

"They can do whatever they want with the whore." The woman continued. "Just spread the wealth around a bit. I haven't had Gawain in my bed for a month."

She listened as the women made sounds of agreement and felt her eyebrows inch up. Breck wasn't naïve – she knew that the men sometimes visited with the questionable women, but hearing the wenches openly talk about the fact that they had slept with Gawain was a little strange to hear. She wondered who else frequented them as well. Lancelot, she knew for sure. She had suspicions about Galahad after having spotted a few marks on his neck from time to time, but what about Arthur? And what about Tristan?

"Tristan neither." One of other women piped up, confirming her thoughts as though she had been reading Breck's mind. "It has been what? Three weeks? A month? Ever since he started hangin' about that devil of a woman. You heard that rumor she sacrificed those poor men? Did it in tribute to some God of hers." Then Breck heard the woman scoff. "He knows how to choose 'em, aye?"

It was easy to ignore the outlandish rumor – she was too busy trying to resist the urge to go around the corner and beat the woman that had admitted to sleeping with Tristan. The idea of Tristan sleeping with one (possible many) of these women had her incredibly jealous, if not a bit angry. She knew she should have expected it, seeing as Tristan _did _have a life before she had come along, but it didn't make the knowledge any easier. Breck didn't like the idea of him with another woman one bit but she did have to admit that it was a bit of a relief to know that he wasn't seeing the whores anymore. So with a reeling mind, she finally decided she'd heard enough and walked away to continue about her business while the women resumed talking nonsense about her.

She felt like a new light had been shed on Tristan's feelings towards her. If he had stopped visiting the whores around the same time they met, despite that they hadn't liked each other at the time, that had to mean something. The way she had found out was unorthodox, but she was glad she had stayed to eavesdrop on the women. Maybe, just maybe, he had been feeling the same tension between them that she had. Now more then ever, she had hope that he may like her more then he was letting on and that there could be something more between her and Tristan after all.

* * *

Much to her surprise and happiness, just as the tavern was beginning to fill up with the patrons for the night Arthur and the Sarmatians returned from their long journey. Nine had been feeling much better after a couple hours of rest so Breck had left the brood to their own devices and had joined Jols for supper when word reached them of their friends' arrival. Elated with the news that none of them had been hurt, Breck practically jumped out of her seat and headed for the stables, pushing her way through the crowd with Jols hot on her heels.

Galahad was the first one she saw when she opened the door to the stables and he grinned widely before coming over and wrapping her up in a hug so large that he lifted her off the ground. "My friend, you are a sight for sore eyes." He said, squeezing her so hard she was finding it hard to breathe.

"I shall soon be a _dead _sight for your eyes should you not release me." She warned with a laugh even as she hugged him in return. When he released her, he gave her a large grin and she couldn't help but return it. "I am ecstatic you have all returned uninjured." She said, looking around the group of men to inspect them quickly. "Mostly." Breck corrected when she spotted a few bandages on some of the men.

The others moved to greet her and Jols but Tristan, Breck noted, had his back to everyone and was unsaddling his horse quickly. She frowned, moving to go and speak with him, when Gawain stepped in her path. He had a large grin on his face and grasped her hand, pressing a kiss to the top of it. "I am most elated to see you." Gawain said.

"And I you. It is a delight to see you in good health." She responded kindly, trying to get a glance of Tristan around his broad shoulder.

Gawain nodded and then pulled her close to him, wrapping her up in a hug. The men around them all averted their gazes or moved away from them subtly and she looked at them oddly, not sure why they were acting the way they were. Had Gawain said something about their conversation while the men were gone? Breck's gaze found Tristan again over Gawain's shoulder and this time he was facing them with an unreadable expression on his face, pulling off his armor roughly. She offered him a smile and a wave in greeting, but he merely turned his back to her again and carried on with his business.

Now Breck was downright confounded. Was Tristan angry with her?

"I thought of you every moment we were apart." He said in her ear quietly, gaining her attention again. He pulled back far enough to be able to look at her but not before pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Shall you join us in the tavern?"

"Of course, just after I help Jols – " She started to say.

"Nonsense." Gawain cut in.

"Tis my job." She reminded him before gently disentangling herself from his arms. "Go, I will be along shortly." Gawain finally nodded and turned to leave with Galahad, telling the others he would claim a table for them.

She took the chance to greet the rest of the knights, noticing when Tristan left the stables quickly and without another glance in her direction, before hugging Arthur once he was close enough. "I have not forgotten the discussion we must have." Arthur reminded her, looking tired but happy to be home.

Breck shook her head and dismissed his words, still wondering why Tristan was acting so oddly. "Nonsense. You have only just arrived – save our council for the morrow." She said, giving him one last squeeze before releasing him. "You will join us for supper?"

"Yes." Arthur confirmed with a nod. He glanced around for a moment, looking as though he was checking for eavesdroppers, before stepping closer with a serious look on his face. "We need to speak about Gawain, as well." He added quietly so only she could hear.

Breck cringed, her worst fears coming true. "He informed you of his offer regarding Cerdic?"

"And of his offer regarding his affections." Arthur said knowingly and with a quirked eyebrow. "The rest of the men have also been made aware."

This was exactly what she _hadn't _wanted, but she figured the men would have found out sooner or later. Was this why Tristan was angry and ignoring her now? Because he knew Gawain had finally made his move? She recalled his actions around Gawain since the two of them began training together and couldn't help but think that now, perhaps, Gawain hadn't been the only one sizing up his competition. Part of her was almost happy with Tristan's reaction to the news because it further fueled her hope he returned her feelings; the other part of her, though, knew it had set her and Tristan's relationship back a few notches.

"We shall discuss it later." Arthur said with a pat to her back, noticing her pensiveness. "Tonight, we celebrate our safe return."

* * *

The men were already a few drinks in by the time she and Jols arrived at the tavern again. Bors and Vanora were openly expressing how happy they were to see each other, much to the protests of the offended patrons close to them, and there was another game of dagger throwing taking place. Breck was surprised to see Tristan sitting near the group of knights, having expected he wouldn't show up, and she only contemplated approaching him for a moment before making her way towards him. It would probably end up being a mistake because they usually just wound up arguing any time she called him out on his attitude, but there was no reason for him to brush her off the way he did and she was going to let him know just how irritated she was with him because of it.

He glanced at her when he saw her coming but then averted his gaze to focus on his plate of food. "You cannot greet a friend?" She asked, standing in front of him with a quirked eyebrow. She had tried not to say it with attitude, but it wasn't fair of him to ignore her just because his comrade was attempting to court her and her irritation was obvious.

Tristan glanced up at her with a bored looking expression. "Greetings." He said coolly.

They stared each other down for a long moment, Breck feeling annoyed with his attitude towards her, until Gawain started calling her over. She glanced at Gawain, who was motioning her over enthusiastically, and then redirected her attention back to Tristan. He spared Gawain only a glance before raising his eyebrows at her, looking as though he were signaling to her that she should get going. With a roll of her eyes she went to join Galahad and Gawain, cursing Tristan under her breath and not really caring if he could hear her or not.

_What an imbecile_, she thought to herself. There was no way he was acting like this just because of Gawain's advances – if he was he was being completely unfair. If Tristan had feelings for her, he should have come out and said something instead of playing mind games with her. And it wasn't as though she had done anything to motivate Gawain into his actions; he had done this all on his own accord. She wondered if maybe something else had happened while they were gone and eyed Galahad, knowing that if anyone would tell her the complete truth, it would be him.

After another round of dagger throwing, which Galahad actually won and kept rubbing in her face, she noticed that his drink had gotten low. Deciding there would be no better time then the present she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in the direction of the bar.

"Come, I need a refill." She said loudly as an excuse to get alone time with the young knight.

"Grab me one as well!" Bors called.

"And me!" Gawain added.

Galahad looked confused as to why she'd pulled him away so hastily and quirked an eyebrow at her once they reached the bar. "Is something the matter?" He asked unsurely. "I will not let you out of the rules of the game – you must finish a full pint of ale." He added as an afterthought.

Breck ignored his statement and glanced around to make sure no one had followed them or was eavesdropping before stepping closer to him. "Did something transpire between Tristan and Gawain while on duty?" She asked him quietly.

Galahad was surprised by the question at first but then pursed his lips and cast a quick glance over at the table. Then he turned his gaze back to hers and, judging by his expression, her suspicions had been correct.

"I saw them speaking alone one night." He began to explain. "It looked as though most of the talking was on Gawain's part and he looked…not _angry_." He said, waving his hand around unsurely as he tried to think of the proper way to describe the altercation. "But…threatening, perhaps? As though he were warning Tristan of some sort of matter." Galahad finally said. "I do not believe Tristan said much in response, but when he did, that was when Gawain became mad." Then he moved in a bit closer. "I do not wish to draw conclusions, but I believe I heard your name spoken. They were far away so it was hard to hear, but I think I heard it."

Breck pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "This is a mess." She stated, running a hand through her curls. She glanced over at the table again to see if Gawain or Tristan were paying any attention to her and Galahad…then felt her stomach flip over unpleasantly and her blood run cold.

There, sitting on Tristan's lap and toying with his braids, was one of the wenches she was sure was gossiping about her earlier that day. The woman's breasts were practically falling out of her dress and onto Tristan's face and she felt her fist clench angrily when the woman dropped a kiss onto Tristan's jaw. Tristan seemed to have noticed that he had Breck's attention now and he cast her a look as he slid a hand onto the woman's waist, keeping her right where she was on his lap. Breck clenched her jaw when the woman shot her a triumphant smirk and finally tore her eyes away from the scene when she noticed Galahad had been trying to get her attention.

"Breck?" He asked, looking back and forth between her and where Tristan sat. She could practically see him piecing everything together in his head as he observed the situation. "Are you involved with Tristan?" He finally asked incredulously.

Breck shook her head, trying to grasp onto some form of a coherent thought in her anger and disappointment before sending one last glare in Tristan's direction. "No." She said firmly and then turned on her heel to leave, ignoring Galahad's calls for her to return.

* * *

Breck stormed out of the tavern and then paused when the door slammed behind her, heaving angrily as she tried to decide just where she should go from there. With a shake of her head, she decided she didn't care – she just needed to get away the tavern and away from Tristan. Breck glared at the door behind her for one moment longer before turning and heading for the training arena. It was dark and it would be hard to see, but she needed to do something to relieve the anger she was now feeling.

She knew it wasn't fair of her to be acting the way she was – it wasn't like she had a claim on Tristan. But in the month and a half that she'd known him she had _never _seen him with another woman and the image of the whore on his lap, toying with the braids that Breck herself had grown to admire made her see red. The look on his face, the slight smugness that was apparent, had only made it worse. Did he know more about her affections then he let on? Was he doing it on purpose just to toy with her head and was he really that cruel of a man? She would admit that it hurt her – she had thought she had finally gained some form of respect from Tristan. Maybe she had been wrong.

A small, hopeful part of her considered for a moment that maybe he was angry with her because of Gawain and was just trying to make her jealous. It would be a very uncharacteristic move of him if that was indeed what he was trying to accomplish, but if that was his plan, it had worked. Every fiber of her being was jealous and it took all of her will power not to turn back around and go scratch out the woman's eyes for even looking at Tristan. The knowledge that he had been with other women before meeting her wasn't something that she was ignorant of anymore and wasn't something she would hold against him – he _was _only a man. But he and Breck had become friends of a sort and she had been surethat she wasn't the only one feeling the tension between them whenever they were together. Seeing him with the woman was quickly destroying the hopes she'd had for them.

Breck kicked a rock angrily and stomped towards the arena, crossing her arms as she walked. She had tried to hide the jealousy on her face when they had made eye contact but she knew he had seen it. She was ashamed of herself for having let him see what his actions had done to her but there was nothing she could do about that now. With a sneer, she shook her head and wondered if Tristan even cared. For all she knew, he and the whore were going back to his quarters right now to indulge themselves in a quick romp.

The idea of it made her sick to her stomach.

"It is unlike you to flee." A voice called behind her.

Breck froze at the familiar voice. Her anger flared wildly at the knowledge that he had the audacity to follow her, but she mustered up all of her control and plastered on a cold mask before turning to face Tristan, trying to regard him with as unfeeling of a look as she could muster.

"And from what, pray tell, would I be fleeing?" She asked steadily.

Tristan didn't respond right away, just continued approaching her slowly with a smirk on the corner of his mouth. Breck's palm itched to slap it right off of his annoyingly handsome face but she fisted the material of her shirt instead to refrain from doing so. "You enlighten me." He responded, coming to a halt some five feet in front of her.

Breck rolled her eyes, not having the mental capacity to handle his sardonic nature right then, and shook her head. "I do not _flee_." She snapped at him, even though it was a blatant lie. "I wish to train." She used as her excuse. "Do I require your permission for this? _Master_?"

His eyebrows rose at her attitude, but that was the only indicator that her words had effected him. He glanced around casually, looking once again like he didn't have a care in the world and as though the woman in front of him _wasn't_ fuming mad. His disregard was only making her angrier and she had to force herself to take a calming breath. "Tis dark – "

"Well spotted." She cut in with a quick retort.

" – too dark to see." He continued, ignoring her jibe. "Henceforth, too dark to train."

Tristan was infuriating and she was going to _kill him_. He knew she was angry, knew _he _was the cause of it, and he had followed her just so he could be condescending? She had no idea why he was acting the way he was but if she didn't get away from him soon, she just might end up doing something that she regretted in her livid state. "I should think you would be pleased I continue my training so avidly. Now, if you would excuse me." She said before turning on her heel to leave. "Good night, Tristan." She practically growled.

"Breck…" He called after her.

Even though it was the first time she could actually remember hearing him say her name, the fact that he refused to leave he alone overshadowed the pleasant warmth her name on his tongue sent through her. Breck finally whipped around, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at him. "Can you not leave me be?" She asked him, her anger finally showing through. "Is there nothing better to occupy your time? The whore on your lap seemed willing enough to distract you – fuck her and leave me be."

Tristan's eyes narrowed at her words and she immediately clamped her mouth shut with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She hadn't meant to say what she was actually angry about, nor use such vulgar language, but the words had come tumbling out before she could stop them and the look on his face now clearly said that she had just crossed the line. He moved towards her so quickly that she didn't even have time to contemplate an escape, bracing herself for the hit that was surely about to come as he raised his hand out towards her.

In the next moment, before Breck could discern what he was about to do, Tristan wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulled her close, and then dragged her lips up to his in a demanding kiss.

Breck was in complete shock. She could feel his beard scratching pleasantly against her skin and his fingers were fisting into the curls of her hair, making her nerves tingle with excitement. She could smell the Earth on his clothes, a scent that she was beginning to find intoxicating, and his free hand had come to rest on her waist, anchoring her to him. When he tilted his head to deepen the kiss she finally snapped back to reality.

_Tristan _was _kissing her._

Her eyes slid shut on their own accord and she brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders as she returned his kiss. His lips were a bit chapped but so warm and moving so enticingly against her own that she didn't give a damn. When she felt his tongue brush over her bottom lip, seeking entrance to her mouth, it took everything in her not to sag against him while she shivered at the contact.

And just as quickly as he had moved to kiss her, Tristan was releasing her and stepping away.

Breck stumbled forward at the loss of the contact, opening her eyes to look at him in confusion before realizing that he was stalking away from her at a rapid pace. She was too dumbfounded to chase after him, watching his retreating back with wide eyes, before bringing a hand up to her lips. They were swollen and tingling from his kiss and she felt like her heart would burst through her ribcage at any moment, the only signs that the kiss had _actually _happened and wasn't just a figment of her imagination.

She couldn't believe Tristan had just kissed her. Furthermore, she couldn't believe he'd kissed her and then just…_left_.

With a shaky breath, Breck lowered her hand from her lips. She had never been kissed like that and knew, without a doubt, that the kiss would be burned into her memory. Breck shook her head and frowned as she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold now that he was gone. Tristan's actions that night had paved the way for an entirely new round of questions and doubts and she knew there was no way she'd be getting any sleep that night, especially not with the knowledge of Tristan's quarters being so close to hers.

Realizing she probably looked deranged standing in the middle of street and staring into nothingness, Breck decided it would be safest if she were to just return to her quarters for the night. With a reeling mind and tingling lips and body, she shook her head. Tristan, the mysterious scout that she had once believed to be incapable of most human emotions, had kissed her.

And the passion of it had shaken her to her very core.

* * *

**A/N: Are you guys still breathing? **

**I squealed even as I wrote it, not gonna lie. **


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck sighed and rolled onto her back, frowning up at the ceiling as she tried to find a comfortable position on her old, squeaky bed. After a few moments of wiggling about, she stilled her movements and shut her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep again. Though she tried in vain to clear her head of any thoughts, the second she closed her eyes she began thinking about _him _– his hands in her hair and on her waist, the scratch of his beard on her face, his warm lips that were so fierce and determined and _hungry _against hers…

Her eyes opened again and she growled before rolling onto her stomach, punching her pillow for good measure to soften it and then settling down again.

This had been going on all night. Every time Breck shut her eyes, her traitorous mind went back to the kiss she'd shared with Tristan not even eight hours ago. When she _had _managed to fall asleep for the few measly hours she'd obtained, the dark haired Sarmatian had even made his presence known in her dreams, taunting her with images of a life with him she wasn't sure could be possible or teasing her with much more scandalous acts then kissing. If she had thought her attraction to the man was palpable beforehand, now she was downright _doomed _when it came to Tristan. In one fell swoop he'd managed to both seal her fondness towards him and banish any lingering crush she might have had on Gawain.

With a growl, Breck slammed her hands on her bed in pure frustration and rolled onto her back again, the squeaking of her bed shrill and loud in her movements. The shift she wore for sleeping now was tangled all around her and she kicked her legs to try and free herself from the cocoon she'd made around herself.

Had he meant to kiss her? Had he only been caught up in the heat of their altercation and made a heady decision to try and shut her up? If that was the case, then Tristan was acting extremely uncharacteristically. From what she'd always understood, he was not the type to make impulsive decisions _or_ to act without some prior motives. Then again, judging by what Galahad had told her, she brought out a side of Tristan that not many did. And try as she might, the fire behind his actions could not be overlooked. She could feel the same desire behind his lips that she knew had been behind hers.

One of the things she found most irritating was the fact that she didn't feel she could confide in anyone about what had happened to try and ease her anxiety. If she were to go to Vanora, the older woman would surely inform her lover Bors (and the man had such a huge mouth that Breck was wary of telling him any sort of secret). Arthur already seemed to have a few things to say about her relationship with Gawain and she cringed at what he may think when he found out she was also involved with Tristan. As for Galahad? She knew all too well how close he and Gawain were and though she knew she could trust him with most of her secrets, she feared that the young Sarmatian would be unable to hold his tongue around their friend about this particular one.

Breck shook her head and kicked the sheets off of her body in irritation. She knew Gawain would be crushed if he found out about what had transpired between her and Tristan. The man was entirely too good for her – he was kind and caring and a complete romantic when the occasion called for it, and here she was leading him on and pining after a man that she simply could not figure out. She hated herself for toying with his emotions the way she had been and the time had come to reject him as gently as she could – he deserved a woman that would care for him whole heartedly and treat him with the utmost love and respect; Breck was not this woman and the sooner Gawain realized that, the better.

So now what of Tristan? Though she wasn't sure how their kiss would affect their friendship, as far as she knew, they would still be training together and the thought of being alone with him at that moment was both exciting and nerve racking. Would he kiss her again the next time they were alone? And would he explain himself or, as she suspected she'd probably have to do, would Breck have to beat the truth out of him? Breck had previously told herself that if Tristan made any sort of advance on her that she would confess her attraction to him – now that seemed much easier said then done. She had never been faced with a problem like this. How in the world was she supposed to tell Tristan how much she cared for him when she had never told anyone such a thing before? When it came to fighting or tracking Saxons or surviving in the wild, Breck was a professional. But telling a man that she cared about him to his face? The thought made her cringe in fear.

With a frustrated groan, Breck determined this – she needed to kill something.

It was still extremely early outside but Breck knew she wasn't going to get anymore sleep that night. Deciding that she would take Lugh out into the forest and go for a morning hunt, she finally jumped out of bed and stomped over to her trunk to start digging around for the clothes she'd thrown carelessly in there the night before. She changed hastily, hoping Tristan wasn't an early riser and that she wouldn't have to face him yet, and then pulled on her boots before searching amongst her growing pile of possessions for her bow.

She had just located her bow and arrows when the sound of approaching footsteps outside her door registered with her ears. She froze, listening to see if the visitor was coming for her or not, before someone was swinging her door open loudly to announce their presence. Breck was on her feet and pointing an arrow at the intruder in the blink of an eye, but relaxed when she saw that it was only a very tired and very agitated looking Galahad.

"What in the _world _have you been doing this entire night?" He growled, looking at her incredulously as she returned the arrow back to her quiver and slung both it and her bow over her shoulder. "All night I have heard naught but squeaking and stomping about from you – have you a man in here?" He accused, now looking around for any signs of a visitor in her room.

"Do not be absurd." Breck shot at him, not in the mood for his attitude considering she was in such an irritated state herself. "I simply cannot sleep."

"Nor can I, thanks to you." He said, running a hand over his face before studying the fact that she was strapping her sword to her hips and was now loaded down with her weapons. "Where to? The sun is not yet up." He pointed out in confusion, scratching his already mussed hair and making it even messier. He yawned widely and when he leaned against her table casually, it appeared that he was already over his frustration with her.

"Hunting." She answered as she kicked her trunk shut.

Galahad was quiet for a long moment then pushed away from his relaxed pose to take a step towards her, looking concerned. "You do not look well, friend." He commented. "What occurred with Tristan when you left the tavern?"

Breck looked over at him sharply. "What causes you to believe anything took place?" She questioned defensively. She remembered Galahad calling her back when she'd stormed out of the tavern – had he also come after her and seen what had happened with Tristan?

His eyebrows rose at her insistent question and he crossed his arms, looking at her doubtfully. "First because I am aware Tristan chased after you." He said matter-of-factly. "Secondly because of your defensiveness just now." He concluded. When she scowled at him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a pointed look. "You may trust me, Breck."

She strongly considered telling him what was causing her so much distress but decided against it. If there was anyone she needed to speak to about what had happened, it was Tristan. There was no need to involve anyone else when she still wasn't sure what it all meant. "Do not worry yourself with my dealings, Galahad." She finally said gently. He almost looked hurt at her unwillingness to confide in him, so she reached up to pat one of the hands on her shoulder. "It is not lack of trust which prompts me to keep my secret, I assure you."

Galahad finally nodded and then released her. "Do you wish for company?" He offered

Breck shook her head with a small smile. "Thank you for your offer, but no. I wish to be alone to sort my own thoughts and you deserve rest after your journey." She declined before stepping around him to leave. "Should anyone come searching for me, inform them I will return shortly."

"I shall." Galahad assured her as he followed her out of her quarters and into the alley outside.

The knights' quarters were located in an alley not far from where Arthur resided; the quaint homes all stood in a close row on either of the alley, so it was easy to see and hear whenever the men moved about. Currently, all of the houses around them were dark and she glanced in the direction of Tristan's house for a brief moment before turning to head in the direction of the stables.

"Breck?" Galahad asked, making her stop and look at him over her shoulder. "Do be careful." He instructed her.

Breck nodded and watched him return back to his room. Once the door was shut behind him, she took a moment to glance in the direction of Tristan's home again. She could see that it was still dark inside, so the man was either sleeping or gone. Breck nervously glanced around for a second before deciding that now would be a very inopportune time to see him, considering she was so tired and so agitated, and turned to go and collect Lugh without another glance behind her.

She had no idea what she would be in store for the next time she was with Tristan, but she needed to ease her irritation before she did anything rash, like kiss him again – or punch him for leaving her the way he had.

* * *

By the time she returned, most of the town was up and bustling with people carrying out their business for the day. Thankfully, since it had been so early when she left, Breck had managed to saddle Lugh and make it to the forest without encountering the man that was invading her thoughts nonstop. She knew very well she'd have to face him soon enough but it had at least abated her frustrations a bit to have killed the wild boar now hanging from her horse. After briefly stopping at the town butcher to drop off the dead animal, she headed instead towards the stables to return Lugh to his stall and carry on with business as usual.

"You awoke early this morn." Jols commented when she lead her steed through the stable door. He froze though when he turned to look at her and then pointed unsurely at her attire. "Er…there is blood on your clothing."

Breck glanced down at her clothes and then merely shrugged at him as she began working at unsaddling Lugh. "Tis not mine. It belongs to the boar I slew in the forest."

It seemed that was a relief to Jols and he nodded, looking less concerned now. "Brave of you to venture out on your own." He said conversationally. "The Woads have been spotted more and more this side of the Wall. Quite a dangerous predicament it would be should you be caught unawares."

"Aye." Breck agreed without really paying much attention to what he was saying.

While Jols continued to blabber away, obviously unaware that his words were falling on deaf ears, Breck glanced over towards Azia. The mare had poked her head out and was staring at her unblinkingly, as though she had known what had transpired between the redhead and her master the previous night. Breck sighed, locked Lugh up in his stall, and then walked over to where Azia was standing in order to pat her nose. The horse nudged her hand and then threw her head back, snorting at her.

"Do not gaze at me with such judgment." She whispered to the horse in Gaelic, narrowing her eyes at her before scratching behind the horse's ears. "Your master is the one at fault."

"What was that?" Jols asked.

"I said nothing." Breck lied quickly before leaving Azia to go and stow her saddle away. "Has anyone come searching for me?" She questioned to change the subject.

"Now that you ask, yes, actually." Jols confirmed as though just remembering. "Tristan stopped in just after dawn." He explained, making her look at him sharply. "He wished me to inform you that he expects to see you at the training arena by noon, as usual." He recounted. "And that you will require your weapons."

Breck nodded slowly, her heart racing, before she and Jols began their work. Jols talked away, oblivious to the fact that Breck was distracted, while she worked in silence and began to think of all the possibilities her session with Tristan could hold that day.

She couldn't decide if she was relieved or apprehensive knowing that Tristan wasn't going to be avoiding her after what had happened between them. She remembered that he had made himself scarcer then usual after she had stitched him in the infirmary and that encounter hadn't even been that large of a deal in her eyes. Part of her had assumed that he would disappear completely after kissing her and felt encouraged that he wanted to carry on with their sessions like normal – but then she frowned to herself and wondered if this meant he would want to pretend nothing had happened between them. Surely he had been just as affected by the kiss as she had been; the passion behind the kiss was not something that could be overlooked and she knew that for a fact.

Despite their resentment towards each other when they had first met, something about their strange relationship just…worked. She looked back on it now and found that in both their friendship and opposition towards each other there had been a certain chemistry between the two of them. Though they were total opposites, they managed to bring out hidden aspects in each other's personalities and it all balanced out in a strange way. Breck would be the first person to attest to the fact that God worked in very mysterious ways – she believed now, more then ever, that he had brought her to Tristan for a reason. And even though that reason was still unclear, she vowed to find out why. And hopefully she would discover the truth before he drove her absolutely insane with confusion.

* * *

Since she was so nervous about going to meet with Tristan in the training arena and hoping that noon would take it's time in approaching, the morning decided to tease her and seemed to fly by. It was noon before she realized it and, with a jittery feeling in her bones, she set off to meet with him. Try as she might, she could not stop the nervous sweating of her palms nor was she able to ignore the tingling in her lips. Breck was feeling so many things at once that she thought she would jump right out of her skin and it was all she could do not to turn around to run and hide from him.

Tristan was in the middle of the arena when she finally arrived and she paused to watch him, taking advantage of the fact that he was currently unaware of her presence. He was swishing his sword around smoothly, cutting the blade through the air to warm up his muscles, and she admired the grace behind his movements for a long moment. It was clear that he was an expert with his sword and he moved around the wooden dummies with so much ease that it almost appeared to be a dance of some sort. He had decided to forego wearing any armor and she admired the way his form moved and flexed beneath his clothes, her eyes trailing over his form multiple times as she gulped.

A loud squawk to her left made her jump and clutch a hand to her heart. She spotted Tristan's hawk perched nearby and the bird was eyeing her with its beady eyes, obviously sizing up the woman that was watching its owner. The noise had also gained Tristan's attention and he faced her fully now with an unwavering stare. Breck took a deep breath, shot a glare at the offending bird, and then pushed through the gate.

"Snitch." She shot at the bird in Gaelic so Tristan wouldn't understand the insult she hurled at his pet.

"You are late." Tristan said once she was within hearing range.

"Not very." She defended as she came to stand in front of him. "I lost track of the time."

They stared at each other for a long moment and Breck felt her nerves grow with each passing second. The look on his face was hard to distinguish and the way his eyes trailed over her face only made her feel more anxious. What was he thinking right then? Was he thinking about the kiss? Was he considering kissing her again? Was he trying to determine how _she _was affected by what had happened between them?

Feeling that she was obviously going to have to be the one to bring up the topic, she opened her mouth to speak. "Tristan – "

"There is blood on your clothes." He interjected, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Aye." She agreed. "I hunted this morn."

"Then your muscles should be warmed and ready for training." He said with a nod of approval, making her look at him skeptically. What exactly was he playing at? "How many battles have you fought?" He questioned her next.

Breck frowned almost immediately and this was not something that went unnoticed to Tristan. She had decided to be blunt and had been on the verge of asking what had prompted him to kiss her the night before when he'd changed the subject – it was not a promising move on his part but one she supposed she should have expected. He seemed tense as she looked at him now and it did not send a very encouraging feeling through her.

Did he regret what had happened?

"Well?" he asked after her moment of silence.

"No battles of vast important." She said slowly, eyeing him. "I have participated in a good number of skirmishes throughout my years, however."

He nodded and then moved away from the wooden dummies towards a more open area of the arena. Before her thoughts could become too pessimistic, Breck tried to remind herself that he was preparing her for an important mission and that perhaps he just didn't want to discuss their kiss until _after _they were finished for the day. It wasn't as though he was reverting back into the touch trainer he'd been when they first started their sessions, which she found to be at least a small relief. Maybe now just wasn't the time to try and sort out what was going on between them.

"Attack me." Tristan instructed as he clutched his sword with both hands and took a defensive stance.

Breck pushed away her doubts about their relationship and walked towards him unsurely, unsheathing her own sword and giving him a wary look. "You do not wear armor…" She reminded him of his vulnerability.

"You will not hurt me." He responded.

Breck's eyes narrowed on their own accord and she momentarily forgot her internal debate as her competitive side flared. "Will not or _can not_?" She asked to clarify if his statement had been an insult or not.

Tristan shot her the tiniest smirk in response to her question. "That remains to be seen." He shot back. "Attack me." He repeated.

She watched him for a long moment before bringing her sword up in front of her. The tension between them was so incredibly thick now that she was sure she could have cut it with her sword right then. The look on his face was set in hard determination and she only hesitated for one moment longer before lunging and swinging her sword at him.

Tristan blocked it easily, the clang of their swords echoing around them, and she quickly brought her sword to her right to counteract against his own strike. She found as they began to spar that he was incredibly fast and very sure in his movements; she scrambled a bit in her haste to keep her limbs from being chopped off, trying to throw a few of her own moves at him to attempt to catch him off guard. Breck had known that a skirmish with him would be challenging but the added diversion of the previous night's events only made it more difficult to concentrate. The sight of his large hands gripping his sword only reminded her of how they had felt tangled in her hair and she tried valiantly to push the memory away so she could concentrate. Tristan swung his sword down at her legs and she jumped over his blade quickly, circling towards him to strike once she landed. He only blocked it though and then pushed against her to make her stumble back a few steps.

"You are distracted." He accused.

_Of course I am, you imbecile_, she thought to herself. "I am not." She lied with a growl.

"Distraction only leads to death." Tristan shot at her next before lunging towards her.

As Breck fended off the strike, she now understood why he had put her through such rough conditioning – her muscles were not tiring as quickly as they normally would have and her breathing was still perfectly steady despite the fact that their dueling was beginning to drag on, neither one of them willing to give in to the other. She ducked under his sword when it came towards her head and moved to slice her blade upwards, only to have it blocked away easily. When she swung next, lingering a bit too long in the wide arc she'd made, Tristan's blade swiped along her forearm and she jumped back with a hiss before swinging disbelieving eyes at him.

"Distraction leads to injury." He said in explanation.

He had cut her. And the knowing expression was the complete opposite of the apologetic one she might have expected. It suddenly dawned on Breck that Tristan, whose methods had been out of the norm the entire time they'd been training together, may have only kissed her the previous night to prove a point to her. Was this his way of teaching her how to overcome diversion on the battlefield? Did he know how she felt and was using it to his advantage? And would he truly toy with her emotions in such a way?

Seeing red in her sudden anger, Breck lunged forward with a scowl and began attacking him with all her might, thinking back to the days when she'd trained this way with her father and remembering the things he had taught her. A slash towards his arm, a strike in the direction of his leg, and the swinging of her blade at his face were all easily blocked, but his eyebrows rose at her sudden aggression. He didn't make any further comments as he fended off her now fervent attack, but when she misjudged a step of his she found herself having to switch back to the defense and counteract the many advances he made on her. He made a grab for her that made her jump to the side and, with her sword still in hand, she landed a hard punch onto his jaw to force him to back off again.

The look of shocked disbelief on his face while his hand inspected the damage done to his jaw was the best reward she could have possibly received at that moment and she didn't give him a moment to recover before striking again. He barely managed to stop the attack and she could have sworn she saw a glare in his eyes as regarded her in their momentary pause.

"Distraction leads to injury." She shot at him snippily.

Tristan's eyes narrowed and with that they were back to sparring again. Breck was finally beginning to tire and it looked like even he was breathing a bit harder then usual. The exchange of blows must have gone on for another five minutes before Tristan finally swiped her legs out from under her with his leg. Breck fell to her back and just managed to get her sword up, cutting her hand on her own blade when she braced herself for the block. His sword came down hard on her and the clang rattled all the way down her arms, but he didn't move to attack her again after that.

He stared down at her for a long moment before backing off and sheathing his sword again, signaling that their fight was over. Breck sat up slowly, inspecting both the gash on her hand and the cut adorning her forearm before standing to her feet. Her mind was still reeling with irritation at him, convinced the kiss had only been because he'd been trying to teach her a lesson, and she glared at him angrily as he regarded her.

"You were trained well." He finally said with a nod of approval. She waited for the rude comment that he would surely say next to belay his compliment, but much to her surprise it didn't come.

"My father was a skilled fighter."

"As is obvious." Tristan agreed. Then he inclined his head towards the wounds she now had. "Allow Dagonet to treat you or you may find those cuts infected."

Breck nodded and then sheathed her sword, keeping her eyes on him. If he had only kissed her to try and prove a point, she was going to be both angry _and _hurt. Perhaps she shouldn't be jumping to conclusions, but her paranoia was getting the better of her and she immediately felt herself going on the defense. What she was about to say would probably only make the situation worse, but it would not be the first time she had spoken her mind around him when she felt she'd been wronged. He could be angry with her all he wanted, but Breck was going to make sure he knew that she was not going to let him walk all over her.

"Do _not_ kiss me again as a means to establish your unorthodox lessons." Breck said in warning.

Tristan's eyebrow quirked up and he looked like he may say something in retort to her statement, but Breck didn't give him the opportunity – instead, she turned on her heel and left him in her wake without another word. She had a feeling she would pay for the comment the next time they trained together but, for just this once, Breck could feel triumphant over having had the last word and _Tristan_ could be the one to know the feeling of being walked away from.

* * *

**A/N: My goodness this was a hard chapter to write. Hope it didn't suck and sorry if it did!**

**Glad you all responded to the last chapter so well! Yay!**


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Dagonet was none too pleased when Breck turned up at the infirmary and showed him the wounds she'd just sustained from her spar with Tristan. The tall man frowned down at her, inspected the wounds, and then ushered her over to one of the beds in order to treat her. Neither of the cuts was particularly deep but the one on her hand was bleeding freely and causing Dagonet to look a bit concerned as he gathered up some wraps.

"He should handle you with more care." The man tsked, shaking his head as he uncorked the vial of clear liquid he used to disinfect cuts.

There were a _lot _of things in regards to her that Tristan needed to handle more carefully in Breck's opinion but she kept that thought to herself and forced on a smile for her friend. "If it eases your anxiety, this one was of my own doing." Breck explained quickly, gesturing to her bleeding hand. "Besides, I have suffered far worse."

While Dagonet didn't look much happier at her words, her statement did at least catch his interest. He came to stand in front of her and reached for her hand. "Do tell." He said, sounding a little grumpy as he poured some of the liquid onto her hand.

Breck winced at the sting it produced in her gash before gritting her teeth when he began cleaning the injury. "Allow me to think…" She said as she tried to think of what her worst injuries had been, thankful for the distraction as Dagonet tended to her. He was obviously trying to be gentle but wasn't succeeding very well. "Ah, there _was _the instance with a rogue barbarian group outside of the Frankish empire." She mused. "I tried to fend off seven of them and was doing quite well, might I add, until I was strung up behind one of their horses and dragged quite some way during the skirmish."

Dagonet's eyes shot up to her but she only shrugged at him. "In all seriousness?" He asked her incredulously.

"Aye." She confirmed. "My hair was short, a result of an escape attempt some months previous, so I believe they mistook me for a young Saxon soldier." She explained. "The encounter made quite a mess of my back." Breck added, remembering how torn up the skin of her back had been after that. She still had a few scars along her shoulder blades but since she had been outnumbered, she felt lucky that she had walked away from the fight with only those marks – and that she had actually been _able_ to walk away. A few scars, rather then death, was a reasonable trade off.

"How did you escape?" He asked with interest.

"Lady Luck was on my side that day." Breck said. "The rope snapped and I went rolling into a ravine. I then ran for my life." She said with a grin.

Dagonet shook his head in bemusement and smoothed some salve over her wound before he wrapped her hand quickly, tying the bandage tightly so that no dirt or grime would bother it while it healed. "Arthur claimed you were tenacious – does he know just _how _much?"

Breck waved him off with her free hand and laughed shortly. "I presumed it would be in his best interest to keep him uninformed. I shall make the man's heart fail should I ever inform him of the _many _mishaps of my past."

"Mishaps…" Dagonet echoed with scoff. "You, woman, are a magnet for danger if I have ever known one.

"As I have previously been informed."

Dagonet poured more of the liquid on the cut Tristan had given her now and she watched him work in silence, admiring the man's handiness with healing. Whatever the man did to help the healing process along seemed to work like a charm – anyone that she ever saw come through here with an injury or illness was never in that condition for long thanks to Dagonet. The gentle giant of a man really was quite remarkable, now that she thought about it. And not for the first time, she found herself wondering at the similarities between him and her father. The two of them were so sturdy and intimidating with both their physical appearance and the knowledge of their participation in war, but the gentleness exuding from Dagonet was the same her father had reserved for her and Emer. It made her miss him even more then she already did and she frowned at Dagonet unknowingly as she found herself wishing that she could see her father once more, even if only for a few moments.

Once the cut on her arm was taken care of and bandaged, he looked up at her curiously, making her realize she'd been staring at him. "Why do you look at me in such a way?" He asked.

Breck dropped her gaze and eyed her bandages. "You remind me of my father." She admitted quietly.

"How?" He questioned in surprise.

Breck looked up at him and finally smiled. "The similarity between the pair of you is quite astounding." She explained. Breck considered how easy it felt to be in his company and how quickly she had come to trust the man in front of her, then added this statement, "I feel…comfortable with you. I believe this is why I have grown to trust you so greatly."

Dagonet smiled and then patted her shoulder as he stood. "It seems your father was an admirable man – I will accept the compliment you have bestowed upon me." He stated. He watched her for a moment and then crossed his arms. "You miss him?"

"Every moment of every day." Breck confirmed with a nod.

Dagonet nodded solemnly and gave her a look that was both encouraging and understanding. "Being parted from family is never an easy feat to overcome. Know this, should you ever find yourself in need of a confidant, I can be that individual." He offered. "Your secrets will be safe in my keeping."

Breck tilted her head as he moved to clean up the station they'd just used and wondered why she had never considered talking to Dagonet about her situation with Tristan and Gawain. He had proved time and again that he was trustworthy and she remembered her earlier suspicions that the man may have further insight on Tristan's intentions towards her. She was sure that if she could trust any of the knights not to relay her business unto the world, Dagonet would be that man. With a firm resolve, she now decided to tell him what had been going on and see if he had any encouraging words.

"I find myself in need right this moment, if I am to be truthful." She finally said.

He turned to her with an interested look and nodded, motioning for her to speak. "And on what subject?"

She felt nervous now that she was about to tell him about the goings on between her and Tristan and finally decided to just come out and say it. Taking a deep breath, she gazed up at him uncertainly. "Tristan."

Dagonet's expression turned thoughtful as he gazed at her. "I have told you once before that he would make his intentions be known in his own way." He said unsurely. "He is a hard man to decipher when trying to assume his motives, but I shall aid you the best I can." He finally conceded.

"Aye, well, his secretive ways being understood he _did _kiss me this night past," Dagonet's eyes widened almost comically, "so I should say he has made _something _known."

"What say you again?" He asked in complete shock.

Breck sighed and rubbed her forehead. "He followed me from the tavern and kissed me yester night." She repeated. "But my suspicions of the motives that inspired his actions leave me quite troubled."

Dagonet actually had to sit down at hearing that and stared at her with mixed emotions playing across his face. He seemed at a loss of words for a long moment before he gave her a look that could be taken as either slightly guilty or completely confused. "This is not a most unexpected turn of events..." He admitted slowly. "If I am to be honest, I have long suspected him to have feelings for you."

Breck's ears perked at this and she straightened up. None of the knights, not even Arthur, had approached her about their views on her relationship with Tristan. Gawain had asked about the nature of their friendship one time, but he had never spoken about what he made of their companionship. "Have you? Why?" She asked with interest.

"The way he is with you." Dagonet said simply. "I have known the man for fifteen years and never have I witnessed him react to a woman as he does you." He explained.

Breck had to admit that she was relieved to hear Dagonet's words, but her own conclusions as to why Tristan might have acted the way he did continued to nag at her. Maybe Dagonet was correct when he said that they should not assume to know why Tristan acted the way he did, seeing as the man was impossible to decipher, but this situation was one that was new to her. Breck had never been one to jump to conclusions before meeting Tristan and she knew she only did so now because of her uncertainty with how things should develop from this point on and because of her fear of having her heart trampled on. The idea of even having a romantic relationship was only a recent occurrence – how was she to know the way in which these types of situations progressed? Especially with someone like Tristan?

"Do you believe he would behave in such a manner merely to teach me a lesson?" She finally asked, feeling stupid and naïve the moment the questioned reached her own ears.

Dagonet thought about it for only half a second before shaking his head in denial. "No, I do not." He admitted. "I will reveal something Arthur spoke to the group of us – he warned I, along with the rest of the men, that unless our intentions were true and of a good nature that you were _not _to be meddled with." He revealed. "I do not believe Tristan would tamper with you in such a way. Not like this."

She felt like an idiot. She knew how much Tristan respected Arthur, and if the men had been given strict instructions not to fool around with her then Tristan would see the order followed just as he done with every other one he'd been appointed concerning her. Suddenly she found herself feeling guilty for accusing him of acting under other pretenses and scolded herself for misjudging him yet again. He was _Tristan_, for God's sake. Did she really believe that becoming involved with him in this way would actually be _easy_? If he had meant to kiss her simply because he wanted to, surely her words had hampered their progress some and now she was afraid she'd have to work twice as hard to make things right between them again.

"You have feelings for him?"

"Yes." She answered without hesitation.

"Then you shall have to tell him – otherwise, the subject may never be approached." He informed her knowingly.

This was something that Breck had already assumed she would have to do but it was still frightening to her. If Tristan decided that form of relationship wouldn't be ideal, the disappointment she would feel would be great and very hurtful. Yet at the same time, the thought of being involved with him romantically was just as frightening as the thought of rejection – a romance would lead to a companionship she had never been involved in before and, well, other _acts _that she had never spent much time thinking of. What if she disappointed him? Or what if he became bored with her?

"I am frightened." She finally admitted. "Both by the idea of being with him _and _without."

"Sometimes, my friend, we must face our greatest fears in order to reap the grandest rewards."

She knew Dagonet was right and nodded her head with a sigh. She had faced countless enemies, had trekked all over this country and the surrounding ones to chase down Cerdic, yet she was afraid to tell a man that she could possibly be falling in love with him? The subject would have to be approached and Breck would have to locate her courage to do so – the path that both she and Tristan were on was full of danger and uncertainty; if something ever happened to either of them before the truth had a chance to be discussed, it would be something that she would always regret. Tristan needed to know how she felt and she, in turn, deserved to know what it was he felt towards her.

The door to the infirmary opened, making her and Dagonet look over, and Galahad came inside with a look of consternation on his face. "Arthur wishes to see you." He said, crossing his arms with a heave and looking pointedly at Breck. "Now."

Breck and Dagonet shared a look, unsure what their friend's current demeanor meant, before she hopped down from the bed and walked over to Galahad.

"How came you to know my whereabouts?" She asked curiously, unsure why he seemed so stressed at the moment.

"Tis a _long _story." He grumbled before waving to Dagonet and then opening the door for her. "And it is not my business." He cut in quickly when she opened her mouth to question him again. "Hurry along – Arthur awaits you in the council room."

She eyed Galahad before waving at Dagonet over her shoulder. "Thank you for the medical assistance, Dag. I shall see you at supper." She said before walking out of the infirmary with Galahad hot on her heels.

The young Sarmatian was definitely in a mood of sorts, that much was obvious. She was trying to catch his eye to determine what it was that was going on in his head but avoiding it by observing her newly bandaged cuts or simply keeping his gaze from hers for half the journey towards Arthur's council room. When Galahad did finally meet her gaze, he looked away quickly and kept his eyes forward. The behavior was odd for him and Breck frowned before hurrying to get ahead of him and then planting herself directly in his path. He was forced to stop and heaved again, giving her an annoyed look.

"What perturbs you? Have I done something?" She asked firmly, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down.

"No, at least not to my knowledge. Unless, of course, you have an occurrence in which you wish to plead your guilt?" He said after a moment of hesitation.

Even though flashes of the kiss she'd shared with Tristan flashed into her mind, Breck shook her head vehemently. Galahad eyed her critically and she was positive he didn't believe her, but then he simply motioned for her to follow him and stepped around her to lead the way.

Breck rolled her eyes and turned to follow him, having to lengthen her strides so she could catch up to him. She spotted Jols standing outside the stables as they made their way through town and he quirked an eyebrow at her when she and Galahad passed by, making her frown. Why in the world was everyone acting so strangely? Obviously something had happened while she was being tended to by Dagonet, but no one seemed to want to enlighten her yet. She didn't think any ill fate had fallen upon someone since nobody was acting too depressed or distraught, but Galahad seemed annoyed and Jols had looked at her quite accusingly. It was unnerving and she felt like she was headed towards yet another lecture from her long time friend.

Galahad left her outside of the large building that housed Arthur's council room and she watched him go before pushing in through the doors and weaving her way through the halls. Maybe Arthur only wanted to talk about Cerdic? Maybe he was finally ready to talk about Gawain? Or worse – what if somehow, someway, Arthur had found out what happened with Tristan? She shook her head with a frown, sure no one else knew, and then felt completely clueless as to what would cause so much tension. _Surely _it wasn't because she'd sustained a few minor injuries from Tristan. She frowned further when she turned onto the hall leading to the council room and spotted two figures sitting opposite each other just outside of the closed doors.

With a start, she realized that it was Tristan and Gawain – Tristan was sporting a bloody nose while Gawain was nursing his right hand and glaring at his fellow Sarmatian. Quickly putting the pieces together, Breck realized that Tristan had been on the receiving end of a punch for the second time that day and that Gawain had been the one to strike him. Perhaps _this _was why everyone was treating her so strangely – she had managed to cause the two Sarmatians to fight one another.

Gawain was on his feet the instant he spotted her and reached for her injured hand as soon as she was close enough. "You are well?" He asked in concern, shooting a glare in Tristan's direction.

"I am perfectly well." She said in exasperation, pulling her hand from his. "How many times must I remind you of my durability?" She asked before looking over at Tristan. He was watching their interaction steadily and with just the slightest hint of distaste. "What become of your nose?" Breck asked him gently.

Tristan turned his gaze on Gawain and quirked an eyebrow. "He shall answer you that." He responded with a cold look in the direction of his companion.

"Gawain…" Breck sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"I was merely defending you."

"Oh, by God, man…" She said irritably before pointing at him. "I wish to speak with you once my business with Arthur is finished, aye?" Once he nodded, she looked over at Tristan. He seemed pleased that she was annoyed with Gawain and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his behavior. "You will live, then?" She asked him mockingly.

His response was to smirk and offer her a nod, though he looked a lot less irritated now then when she had first arrived. If Tristan was angry with her for the way she had left him or spoken to him at the arena, he was hiding it well in that moment. She didn't have time to ponder on it much longer though since she knew Arthur was waiting for her and if she lingered too long, he would only become impatient with her. With a pointed look at both of the Sarmatians, she left them with a wave of dismissal and headed for the door to face whatever Arthur had in store for her.

* * *

The second the door shut behind her, Arthur was standing from his seat at the Round Table and shooting her an exasperated look, letting her know he at least partially blamed her for what had transpired between Gawain and Tristan. She stared at him for a moment and then walked further into the room, trying to look unaffected by his expression. "You called on me?"

"Yes." He confirmed, crossing his arms. "Shall you enlighten me as to _why _two of my men suddenly cannot be in the same room as one another?"

Breck sighed and shrugged at him. "Though I wish to ease your anxiety, I cannot." She said in response. It wasn't a _complete _lie – she knew the two men had gotten into a dispute and assumed it had something to do with the bandages on both her arm and her hand at that moment, but any other reason then that was unbeknownst to her. There was no possible way that Gawain could know of the kiss she'd shared with Tristan and the idea of Tristan throwing such an occurrence in Gawain's face simply to be egotistical seemed highly unlikely.

"I shall have you know," Arthur started as he began to walk towards her, "that Gawain and Tristan were friends without any quarrels before your arrival." He stated. "And now it seems more often then not that I find the pair of them in some form of an argument. Are you aware of what transpired?"

"I am not." She informed him.

"Gawain learned of the injuries you sustained during training and approached Tristan about the matter. After an exchange of words, Gawain lashed out at him."

This was what Breck had expected to hear after seeing the pair of them outside of the council room and shook her head with a sigh. It was unfortunate that the two men didn't get along as well anymore, but Breck wasn't sure she was the one that should hold all of the blame for it. If they wanted to act like children (which she assumed was more on Gawain's part then Tristan's), that was up to them. "It was an accident – not intentional."

"I do not believe that is what truly leaves our friend bothered." Arthur retorted.

"Arthur, I cannot help how Gawain feels about me, _nor _his decision to deem himself my protector." She said in defense. "You know as well as I that he cares for me – my interaction with any man but you will probably leave him with an ill temper."

"So you realize your friendship with Tristan disturbs him." He stated once he stood in front of her. "Yet you do nothing to appease his uneasiness?"

The way that Arthur was speaking was leading her to believe he thought Gawain to be a smart match, which she found odd considering he had been throwing Tristan at her, intentionally or not, the entire time she had been at the Wall. "My prolonged interaction with Tristan is because of _your _doing, old friend." She reminded him. "A friendship should have been suspected to occur, if not wholly expected."

Arthur nodded his agreement and then tilted his head to study her quizzically. "You do not worry about the impact such a relationship has on your chances with Gawain?" He asked curiously, looking like he didn't quite understand her.

Breck finally heaved and shook her head. "No." She said firmly. "For I have chosen not to accept Gawain."

Arthur's eyebrows rose at hearing that before he looked at her in complete confusion. "I see the way in which you two interact." He stated. "And despite your previous opposition to taking a husband, I had believed you would surely accept his proposals." Arthur continued to explain. "Gawain is a good man – why do you reject him?"

This was the exact conversation with Arthur that Breck had been hoping to avoid – it was clear that the new rivalry between his men was troublesome to him and though it was hard to admit, Breck did deem herself slightly accountable for it. She should have been truthful with Gawain from the start and informed her of her feelings for Tristan instead of leading the man on. Ever since the first time she had confessed her true feelings to Vanora, she had worried over the effect the entire situation may have on Arthur. Now, no matter the judgment that might await her, she found herself forced to face the consequences of her decisions and knew she would have to make her affections known to avoid further stressing Arthur or the other knights.

"He _is _a good man – but not the man my heart desires." She finally admitted.

Arthur stared at her for a long moment and then laughed, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. "You have chosen another, then?" Even though he asked the question, Breck was positive that he understood exactly why she couldn't be with Gawain.

"I have, though it is not yet apparent if he has chosen me." She answered truthfully.

Breck expected him to question the true nature of her feelings towards Tristan after that, but instead he simply made a thoughtful noise and then headed over to the bureau on the far side of the room. She frowned in confusion as she watched him pull out a large map and then felt even more perplexed when he rolled it out on the table and began studying it thoughtfully. Was that it? Was that all he had to say on the subject? Unsurely, she went to stand by his side and watched him thoughtfully, waiting for him to say something in regards to her relationship with his Sarmatian scout at any moment.

"What of these Saxons?" He asked suddenly, looking up at her with a determined expression. "It appears they come to us and a course of action is now required, do you not think so?"

Breck's eyebrows raised and she shot him a skeptical look. "You question me no further on the matter of Gawain and Tristan?" She blurted out disbelievingly, ignoring his question.

Arthur smirked and shook his head. "I am not your father and will not attempt to interfere with the decisions you make." He informed her. "Both are good men that I might have chosen for you myself – I can only trust now that you will handle the situation accordingly." Then he turned his gaze back to the map. "Should you need my council, however, it will be offered without question."

Of all of the things he could have said, this was probably the one statement that gave her the most relief. He wasn't judging her for having caused a rift between his men, nor for having chosen Tristan over Gawain, but rather he was giving her the freedom she needed to sort through the situation on her own and offering up his advice if she ever found herself in need of it. Though it was clear he wanted her to rectify the problems she had caused, his reaction was more then she could have hoped for from him and she smiled at him thankfully.

"Thank you, Arthur." She said graciously before turning her attention to the map as well. "Now, these Saxons…"

* * *

After discussing a few possible options for carrying out their mission concerning Cerdic, she and Arthur decided that once he was relieved of his duties at Hadrian's Wall that he would take a leave of absence and accompany her north to meet with the contact she had near the shore. Then, once they discovered any new information on the Saxons (assuming they weren't in Briton yet), they would continue on as they saw fit. It was an uncertain road that was before them but Breck knew better then anyone that no plan was set in stone when it came to Cerdic and his army. Everything would be left to chance and they would have to adjust accordingly whenever the circumstances were upon them, hoping they had enough backup plans to see them to the end of their mission in good health.

So long had she been talking with Arthur that when she finally made it to the tavern for supper, she had all but forgotten about the conversation she intended to have with Gawain. Breck had gotten herself a plate of food, a goblet of wine, and then turned to head towards the table when the golden-haired knight was suddenly upon her. She sighed at the guilty expression on his face and set her things back down on the bar when it appeared he had come to plead his case for his earlier actions.

"Breck, I wish to apologize for my barbaric behavior." He stated before she could speak, making a grab for her hand and holding it between his. "But know that I only acted in such a manner for your own protection."

"The matter of my protection is _precisely _why Tristan and I now train together, Gawain." She said to him gently, pulling her hand from his. "And is not a matter to which you need to concern yourself with."

Gawain frowned, looking highly disappointed, and turned his gaze away for a long moment. He seemed to be attempting to determine if her words held any sort of hidden meanings and she felt terrible for the distress she could see on his face, but she knew the time had come to reject Gawain. Yes, she had told him that she would wait until the matter with Cerdic was resolved but the new developments with Tristan had changed everything. While she wasn't sure that she wanted to tell him how it was that she actually felt for the dark haired Sarmatian, she knew this for a fact – it would be unfair for her to continue to lead Gawain on when she had no intentions of accepting his offer, regardless if she became involved romantically with Tristan or not.

Gawain finally met her gaze again and the look on his face could only be described as determined. It did not leave an easy feeling in her stomach. "You know I will concern myself with any matter regarding you." He said firmly.

"I do." She admitted before sighing. "But you will do so in vain, my friend, for I have made my decision in regards to your proposal…" She stated, trailing off.

Gawain took a step back and the acknowledgement of her rejection was evident. "You promised me…"

"And I held true to my promise." She defended quickly. "From the bottom of my heart I offer my apologies – but our relationship cannot go any further then friendship."

Gawain laughed shortly and shook his head, a slightly angry but highly dissatisfied expression coming over his handsome face. He glanced towards the table where the majority of the knights sat, including Tristan who was nearby, and then turned an accusing stare back on her. "You harbor affections for Tristan." He accused.

"Gawain – "

"Do not lie to me, Breck." He said sharply.

It was obvious he was already upset; did she really want to distress him further by admitting that she had chosen his friend over him? "The status of my relationship with Tristan," she began to say, "is still uncertain. My mission regarding Cerdic, however, has not changed. I do not know if I can fully dedicate myself to another just yet, but if I should…" Breck said before taking a deep breath. "Aye, I wish Tristan to be that man."

The hurt was apparent on Gawain's face and he shook his head before grabbing for the goblet of wine she had ordered and then drinking the entire contents of the glass. He appeared to be on the verge of saying something in retort more then once, but then apparently decided against it before turning on his heel and leaving the tavern.

Breck felt horrible for the way her words had affected Gawain but it was only just of her to be truthful with him. Tristan was the man that she wanted, not Gawain, and now that he knew it he would be able to move on with his life. She knew Gawain would find another woman to care for and dote on and hoped that they could continue on with their friendship from this day forward – even if she would not take Gawain as her own man, she still wanted to have him as her friend. She glanced over towards where Tristan was sitting and noticed that he was watching her with an unwavering stare. If he had heard the conversation she'd just had with Gawain, how would he have responded to it? She wondered then if Gawain would be able to hold his tongue around Tristan and hoped that the man she'd just rejected _wouldn't _tell her secret to the man she had grown to admire so much. That was something she wished to do herself and on in due time.

"Breck!" Galahad cried out to her, cupping his hands over his mouth to make himself louder then the crowd separating them before motioning her over. "Will you join us?"

Breck turned her gaze from Tristan's and then shook her head at Galahad. Surely by now all of the knights were aware of fight between Tristan and Gawain, and the last thing she wanted when she was feeling so rotten was to be on the receiving end of their prying questions. So instead she waved to the men, picked up her food, and then headed back to her quarters for the night.

* * *

**A/N: Welp, that was a lot longer then I thought it'd be… **

**Thoughts? **


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck awoke the next morning feeling absolutely disgusted with herself.

The incident with Gawain was weighing heavily on her mind, first and foremost. He was her friend and she had hurt him; this did not sit well with her. Then her thoughts turned to Tristan and how complicated things were because of him. It had never been her intention to come here and begin to fall for a man, let alone an insufferable one, and yet here she was pining after him like some love-sick adolescent. The longer she thought about the way she'd been acting since coming to Briton, the more aggravated she became with herself.

What had _happened_ to her?

The old Breck would have never allowed herself to become so entangled within these soft, emotional feelings that she'd been losing sleep over ever since meeting Gawain and Tristan. The old Breck had no need of a man in her life and had been more then capable of handling her own business, both in regards to Cerdic and the ways of war. Where was her hard resolve now? When had she become the weak damsel-in-distress that she had scoffed at so many times before?

Breck sat up in bed and dropped her face into her hands. She had lost sight of herself completely. For the past seven years, the only thing that had been on her mind and guided her on the path she'd chosen had been the notion of vengeance. Yet she had come here and become so distracted with the men that served under Arthur that she could hardly remember the last time she spent more then hour dwelling on the mission before her, whereas beforehand it had been the _only _thought at the forefront of her mind. Did she hate herself for the way she felt about Tristan? No. But did she hate that she had allowed the foreign emotions to take complete control of her life? Indisputably, yes.

Even when she moved from the bed to stand in front of the small, dank mirror in her room, she could hardly recognize the woman standing in front of her. Her hair was tamed, a far cry from the wild, windblown and tangled mass that was usually her hair, obtained from days of riding with Lugh through the wilderness. The dirt that had seemed permanently caked under her nails for so many years was no longer present and the shift she wore in place of the usual breeches and tunic made her glare at herself with a frown. This pristine version of herself was unfamiliar to her and not just physically so. Where was the fighter? Where was the sharp-witted woman that wielded her father's sword against countless enemies? Where was the thirteen year old girl that had sworn revenge upon Cerdic?

Though she was sure her parents would have been happy to see her living this peaceful life, Breck found herself starting to dislike the person she had become – it angered her that she had gone from a hunter and a killer to turning into this silly, insolent girl. Sure, she could admit that it had helped her some to get in touch with the softer side to her but the hardened warrior needed to be reached out to again if she was truly to defeat Cerdic. Tristan had reawakened the side of her she hadn't known since she was a very young girl and his training would surely prove to be useful, but Breck needed to find some sense of balance between her inner fighter and inner lover before she could be fully prepared. It was time to find a way to merge the two sides of her if she was to become the woman she was meant to be.

She suddenly felt restless, if not eager. She yearned to chase after the Saxons again, _needed _to fight in a real skirmish. Though she had received word from her correspondence to the north a week ago, it was no longer enough. She needed to see first hand what the Saxons were up to.

Breck needed to leave Hadrian's Wall, even if only for a short while.

Breck turned from the mirror hastily and all but ripped the shift she was wearing in half in order to get the offending garment off and change. Once she had dressed in her regular attire, she grabbed the large sack she had arrived with and began tossing her things inside. The dresses she owned could stay in the trunk for when she returned but the nicer trinkets she'd acquired would be coming with her in case she needed to sell them for extra coin. The parchment and old quill were packed away as well, just in case of emergencies, then lastly she stowed away her father's old travelling cloak.

She would head north and meet with her contact in person. It had been years since they had been face to face but she knew he would accept readily enough. Breck would check on the status of the Saxons first hand, knowing that anything might have changed in the time in took to actually reach the Kingdom of Alban (the land she travelled to), and once she obtained enough information to appease her mind only then would she return to the Wall. She might be gone for weeks for all she knew, but the time away would be a welcome respite from all the problems happening with Tristan and Gawain.

After her bag was packed with her belongings, she swung her quiver of arrows on her back along with her bow and then began fastening the sword she'd obtained from her father on her hip. She paused when she picked up the necklace she had taken from her father's dead body and kissed it before fastening it around her neck. A new determination had set into her bones and with one last look at the room she'd inhabited for the last month, she grabbed her bag and then headed out into the town, glad that it was still early so that she could avoid drawing too much attention to herself. The stables were void of any workers or Sarmatians when she arrived and Breck tossed her bag onto the ground to go and grab her saddle.

"We ride, Lugh." She informed her noble steed once she was in his stall. The horse's ears perked and she smiled before patting his nose and then beginning to fasten the saddle around his large middle. "The journey will be long, but that is not uncommon for you, aye?" Breck cooed in Gaelic.

There would be no parting words with her friends before she left – she knew that they would only try to convince her not to leave or interfere with her plans. She almost felt guilty because of the worry they would surely feel, but this was something that had to be done for the sake of her sanity and her friends would simply have to deal with it. When she returned she would face the repercussions; until then, she had a new mission to focus on. The road to Alban would be a dangerous one but it was a challenge that she was more then willing to accept.

"Do you take your leave?"

Breck turned her attention to the new voice and glanced at Devran from Lugh's stall. He stood in the doorway and watched her in confusion, eyeing her as she strapped the saddle onto Lugh's back. "For only a short while." She answered with a nod.

"What of the stables?" He asked.

"The work found itself done before I arrived. It shall be easily maintained in my absence." She assured him.

With that being said she lead Lugh out onto the floor and began fastening her bag behind his saddle. Devran frowned and moved into the stables further, watching her with a hint of anxiety on his face. "Where do you go?" He asked her hesitantly, eyeing the large horse in front of him.

"North." She informed him.

Just as she suspected, the statement made his eyes widen and he shook his head quickly. "But north of the wall is Woad territory!" He said in astonishment. "Does Arthur know?"

"I am aware and no, he does not." Breck said, yanking the last tie of her bag tight in a knot and then hoisting herself up on to Lugh's back. It was obvious that Devran was contemplating making a run for it, probably to go and snitch to Arthur, so she grabbed the reigns quickly and shot him a quick smirk. "Never fear, Devran. I shall return." She informed him before digging her heels into Lugh's flanks and sending him forward at a steady gallop out of the stables without another glance back at the young boy.

* * *

It required telling a lie or two to convince the guards to let her out of the gate but once Breck was free of the Wall, the sense of freedom that came over her was almost overwhelming with its pleasant liberation. It suddenly felt as though she been locked up in a cage and had finally been freed, able to roam the lands as she once had without hindrance. Lugh seemed to agree because he began galloping at a pace so rapid that the wind in her face was beginning to make her eyes water and the chill of it caused her hands to turn red almost instantly. The sensations of the determined ride were so familiar however, that she embraced them with absolutely no complaint and a content smile seemed permanently etched onto her face. She was aware that she had thrust herself directly into the clutches of danger as she ventured further away from the Wall and closer to the area heavily populated with Woads, but the foreboding impression on her was strangely comforting and something that she had been highly accustomed to before taking up permanent residence in Briton.

Breck knew she had made the right decision. Gone were the musings of love and companionship with Tristan, vanished were her feelings of guilt over having had to reject Gawain and the frustration she had constantly felt since meeting the two men – now it was just her, Lugh, and the miles of open plains ahead of her.

As they rushed through the plush greenery, the smell of the Earth invading her senses and already beginning to work its way into her hair and clothes, it was the first time that she had felt like _herself _in nearly two months. Years of nomadic travel with her Saxon tribe, weeks spent running wild through the woodlands both with her father and in search of Cerdic came rushing back to her and she leaned down further onto Lugh's back to urge him faster. The rush of their ride went straight to her bones and her adrenaline began to send a pounding feeling through her entire being. She knew danger could be lurking around any tree or bush and the Saxon side of her _wanted _to be attacked and feel the thrill of a skirmish again, _wanted _to watch her enemies die before her and by the blade of her father. Breck knew the time would come – she simply had to be patient.

By the time night had fallen, she and Lugh had covered much more ground then she would have thought. It appeared that her steed had been feeling cooped up and needed the freedom just as badly as she had since he had run for much longer then he normally did when they travelled. He was clearly exhausted by the time she decided to make camp for the night, though, and she patted his neck as he dropped down onto his stomach to rest. He lazily accepted the food that she offered him and once he was chewing away, Breck stood to assess their surroundings.

The small clearing Lugh had chosen to rest in was a bit too open for her taste and the forest around her was eerily still she noted while pacing around Lugh and staring into the surrounding foliage suspiciously. There was the occasional caw of a bird or hoot of an owl, but other then those noises it was almost deathly silent. If there were no larger animals nearby then Breck had to assume that they had either fled because of her approach or because something else had frightened them away. Though her hands itched for a fight, Lugh was her greatest ally right then and he was far too tired to move should she need a quick escape. With that, she decided against starting a fire and dug around in her bag to pull out Kenrick's large cloak for warmth so as not to draw extra attention to herself, wrapping it around her tightly before leaning against Lugh and settling in for the night.

Lugh was sleeping almost instantly and she let the rhythm of his breathing lull her into a state of relaxation. This was what she was used to – sleeping under the stars and moon with her steed amongst foliage and forestry. Breck sunk further against Lugh, her hand coming up to clasp the necklace around her neck, and turned her gaze up to the stars. This journey, however insane others may believe it to be, felt _right_. Part of her wondered how Arthur and the Sarmatians had handled the news of her departure, wondered if Tristan was worrying about her, but she firmly pushed the thoughts away. This journey was not about them – it was about finding the real Breck again and taking the steps to follow through with the oath she had sworn so many years ago.

With a soft smile she patted Lugh's large body and then turned her gaze back out to the forest to keep a watchful eye out, trying to stay awake for as long as she could in case any enemy decided to make their presence known.

* * *

"_Why do you not play, child?" Kenrick asked when he noticed that Breck was eyeing the group of children that were playing some twenty feet away enviously. It was one of the few times when the Saxon army was not on the move and the tribe was settled for the upcoming winter, preparing for the harsh conditions that lay ahead of them. Her father had been chopping wood when he noticed his daughter sitting nearby with the longing expression on her face._

"_I am not allowed." She answered back, turning her eyes away as she spoke to her father in the Germanic language often used around their fellow tribe members. "The others…they hate me." _

"_Nonsense." Kenrick said with a short laugh. "Go, you will see." He urged before hauling up the wood he'd finished with and carrying it over to the ever growing pile by their hut._

_Though she hesitated for a long moment, the five year old finally went towards the other children at a slow pace. The game they were playing seemed rough but also looked quite fun and even though she had never been allowed to join in, she did not wish to receive a reprimanding from her father for her lack of courage. So she tip-toed over, casting warily glances behind her when she realized her father was no longer in sight, and paused just behind Cynric, Cerdic's eldest child. _

"_Look who has come." One of the other children jibed when they spotted her. _

"_What do _you _want?" _

_Pulling herself together, she stepped closer to Cynric. He was the obvious leader of the gaggle of children before her. "May I join?" She asked timidly, pulling at his clothes lightly to catch the attention of the teenager. _

_Cynric looked down at her sharply, as though stunned that she was both standing near him and had the audacity to actually touch him, before he shoved her away roughly and sent her flying to the ground. "You dare touch me, half-breed?" He growled at her, kicking dirt in her direction. She raised her hands in front of her face to defend herself when he loomed over her, looking like he was prepared to strike her. "Keep your filth to yourself!"_

"_Cynric." A sharp, stern voice cut in before the teenager could do anything. _

_Cerdic walked up and eyed his son for a long moment before staring down at Breck. Though he had intervened, the coldness behind his glare was obvious even to her. He would not openly express his distaste for the girl in front of her father but almost every Saxon knew that Cerdic did not like the young half-Celt, including Breck. The man finally offered a hand down to her and she eyed it unsurely before finally grasping onto his much larger hand. She winced when he purposefully squeezed too hard, yanking her up to her feet none-too-gently. _

"_Go home." He growled at her, pulling his hand away from hers and then wiping it on his pant leg. "Before trouble finds you." _

* * *

_SNAP_

Breck's eyes popped open and she had her sword out in a second as the sound of a breaking twig yanked her quickly from her reminiscent dream. Judging by the position of the moon, she couldn't have been asleep for longer then a few hours and her eyes were trying hard to adjust as her sleepiness ebbed away, the forest slowly coming into focus as she got to her feet and steeled herself for any impending attacks. Her movements roused Lugh and he was standing to his full height much faster then she would have gathered in his tired state, tossing his head and snorting at her.

"Quiet you." She chastised in a whisper, the trees finally beginning to becoming clearer as her eyes adjusted to the lighting.

The sound could have been made by a man or an animal, Breck decided, but she did not want to linger in such an open area for much longer to find out the hard way. Knowing what she did about the Woads, they were usually far too secretive to alert anyone of their approach but she felt far too vulnerable in the clearing and hoisted herself onto Lugh's back before sending him forward, her eyes wide and scanning the area around her as she guided him into the trees. Her sword remained in her hand and she squeezed the hilt tightly in her alertness until her knuckles were white and her hand was almost aching. Was she being tracked by Woads? Or was it a predator that had come to have her for its nighttime meal? Lugh snorted loudly, feeling her apprehension and cantered forward at a quicker pace.

"Easy, boy." Breck said to him soothingly in Gaelic. "Easy."

Lugh settled down and began trotting forward at an easy pace, carrying his ever watchful owner through the trees. Breck saw movement out of the corner of her eye some fifteen minutes into their resumed journey and held her breath as she tried to remain calm, digging her heels into Lugh's flanks to make him increase his pace. If her watcher was Woad, she would not attack until they did something to give away their position and if it was a beast, she would have to wait until it decided to make its move. She found herself wishing she had armor that fit her at that moment and made the definitive decision to be fitted for some as soon as she reached Alban.

At that moment, an arrow whizzed past her ear and Breck jerked her head to the side to search for the source, clinging to her horse as Lugh whinnied and stood on his back legs for a moment in protest. Breck's narrowed gaze zeroed in on a handful of figures running amongst the trees before she turned forward and hollered for Lugh to run. He took off as two more arrows went flying past and she ducked low to avoid the shots, urging Lugh ahead faster so they could put a bit more space between them and the Woads she knew to be following her now so that she may form a plan of attack. After Lugh cleared a small stream, Breck pulled sharply on his reigns to make him slow and jumped off of his back, smacking his flank to send him off again before ducking into the trees.

This was what she had been waiting for – the opportunity to put her skills to use and kill. Breck ducked behind a tree, using the cover of darkness as her ally, and sheathed her sword so she could notch an arrow and aim it in the direction she had just come. Her eyes narrowed when she spotted an armed Woad high up in a tree and she sent an arrow straight into his chest, notching another as he fell to the forest below. Moving to look around the other side of the tree, she spotted two more Woads making their way through the treetops and took one of them out without hesitation. His comrade seemed to have discovered her position and sent an arrow flying towards her face, forcing her to duck behind the tree to avoid being hit. A moment later, the Woad archer was falling to the ground with another of her arrows in his stomach.

Two Woads came running across the small stream and she abandoned her bow to unsheathe her sword again, waiting with her back pressed to the tree for them to approach. She was heaving with the rush of adrenaline and clutched her sword tightly despite the injury to her left hand, waiting patiently for them to near her position. Once she heard the footsteps about to go darting past, she circled out from behind the tree and cleanly sliced off the first Woad's head.

Both she and his comrade watched as his decapitated body fell to the ground before glaring at one another. He clutched his ax in his hand steadily, the scarce moonlight giving his blue body and eerie glow, and she took a defensive stance when he jumped at her a few times in a taunting manner.

"Bring your fight." She growled at him in her mother's native tongue.

The language seemed to momentarily catch him off guard, but then the Woad jumped out at her to attack with a loud battle cry. She twirled away from him quickly to dodge it before bringing her blade down on his back with a long swipe. He howled and jumped away, scrambling to recollect himself before charging again. Breck crouched underneath his axe when he swung for her neck then shoved her blade straight through his stomach when she stood back to her full height. The sound he made was a sickening one and she gritted her teeth, shoving her blade even further into him with a jerk. She watched over his shoulder as a last member of the Woad party turned and disappeared into the never-ending darkness while his companion died in front of her. She contemplated chasing down the Woad but decided against it, knowing he would probably be running back to an even larger party that she might not be able to handle on her own.

The dead Woad on her blade slumped limply against her shoulder and she shrugged him off, freeing him of her blade and depositing him onto the forest floor. She could feel the warmth of the Woad's blood on her clothes and skin and closed her eyes, steadying her breath as the adrenaline left her veins and a strange sense of calmness settled inside her. It had been a long time since she had fought like this and Breck wanted to relish in her victory, but she knew very well that Woads travelled in packs – where a few Woads were, surely more would be nearby. She opened her eyes to look down at the dead Woad again, collecting his axe in case she needed another weapon and then slinging her bow back over her shoulder. She gave the Woad one last look before going over to collect her arrows from the three dead archers. Once she had pilfered two more spare quivers of arrow from their dead bodies, Breck headed to the stream to wash her hands and whistle for Lugh to return so they could clear out before anymore Woads appeared.

* * *

Breck and Lugh did not stop until the sun was up and they finally cleared the thick foliage and came up on a vast, open field that eventually gave way to rolling hills and pastures as far as her eyes could see. She knew the Woad population would not be as heavy from this point on and mentally congratulated herself for having bested the British peoples in their own territory. Then she hopped off of Lugh to lead him over to the large lake she spotted only twenty yards away.

"You did well, friend." Breck complimented him softly, scratching behind his ears.

He snorted at her in response and Breck merely smiled before releasing him once they were closer to the lake. He trotted over and began lapping up the water gratefully to rehydrate himself while Breck followed behind him slowly, glancing behind her every now and again to check if they were being followed. The Woads would have no qualms about attacking her outside of the forest if she was close enough, but the trees were motionless as ever. With one last glance over her shoulder, she kneeled down next to where Lugh was still drinking and splashed the cool water on her face to wash of the blood she surely knew to be there from the fight. Sure enough, the water on her fingers was stained red and she rinsed her face one more time before drying herself on her sleeve.

The gash on her left hand had been throbbing for some time now and she finally took the time to inspect it. Breck frowned when she saw that blood was beginning to seep through the now dirty bandage Dagonet had provided her with only a few days ago and unwrapped it quickly, cringing at the feel of the cloth peeling itself away from her abused skin. The cut was bleeding freely again from the exertion of the fight and she heaved before standing to pull out a few spare bits of cloth she'd stowed away and began wrapping it again quickly.

"A few more days' journey lays ahead, dear Lugh." Breck said reassuringly in the Gaelic her horse loved. "Drink your fill now."

Lugh lifted his head to look at her lazily, his tongue running over his lips to collect any excess moisture, before his head jerked up completely in an alert manner and his eyes gaze steadily at the forest behind them. Breck frowned and looked over her shoulder before she turned completely and reached for the hilt of her sword. Her hand paused on her weapon when an arrow planted itself in the ground at her feet and she stared at it for a moment before lifting her gaze back to the trees. Over two dozen Woads stepped out from behind the trees with weapons trained on her and she held her breath in anticipation when they merely stood there and watched her carefully.

What were they doing? Were they going to kill her?

An older, skinny Woad with long hair and a long, scraggly beard stepped out further then the rest. His skin was dirty and grimy, his hair greasy and unkempt, and a long robe billowed behind him in the wind while he regarded her as though she were some foreign species he'd never seen before. Breck eyed him, unsure as to whom this man may be since her knowledge of the Woads was not vast, but did not move an inch so as not to send his guard into action.

"You are no Roman." The man called to her in more of a statement then a question. Even his voice sounded old.

"No." She responded.

Another Woad spoke to the older man in their language, which she didn't understand, and she narrowed her eyes when she realized he was the man that had been apart of the party that had attacked her. She wondered what they could be talking about, watching the two men interact, before the old man turned his gaze back on her and spoke again. "My scout informs me you spoke with a foreign tongue." He said. "This is true?"

Breck wasn't sure why this man was being so inquisitive with her since she had always been lead to believe that the Woads killed without abandon, but she nodded anyway. "I am Celt. I speak the language of my mother and our ancestors." She explained.

The man looked intrigued now. "You have wandered far from home." He stated.

"There are few places I claim as home, old man." She retorted.

The old man tilted his head thoughtfully, ignoring her biting attitude. "The great Wall is one of these?"

Had the Woads really been tracking her for that long of a time? She glanced around at the strange, blue figures before her and straightened her shoulders. "Aye." She responded. "Arthur Castus is a lifelong friend. He welcomed me graciously on his lands."

A murmuring broke out amongst the Woads until the old man held his hand up to silence them. Breck ascertained that he must be their leader, which would explain both the way the Woads fell silent immediately and the guard that stood behind him with their weapons still trained on her. "He has sent you?"

"No." She answered with a shake of her head. "He knows not the journey on which I have embarked." She explained. Breck could see that some of the Woads were beginning to become restless with their want to attack her and she decided on her next statement quickly. It wasn't like her to exploit her personal affairs with strangers, but if she wanted to gain their trust enough to walk away from this situation this may be the only way. "My business lies with the Saxon Cerdic and my wish to see him dead." She revealed, making more then a few eyebrows rise up in surprise. "His army travels to Briton in the near future – I pass through now to council with a contact of mine in Alban in order to learn of their progress."

The old man pursed his lips and began talking quickly with the Woads around them. Most of them were aged like he was and seemed to have quite a few protesting things to say in response to him, judging by the tone in their voices, but the old man appeared to be firm in whatever it was he was saying to them. Many glares were sent in her direction by the surrounding Britons but she simply met them head on with a hard stare of her own, refusing to show any weakness before these strange people. She had heard stories of their capabilities in war and knew that they were the cause of the many deceased soldiers that Arthur had lost in his command. The knowledge left an ill feeling in her bones but she kept her face steady as she waited to hear what was on the old Woad's mind.

"I wish to reach a bargain, young Celt." The old man finally spoke.

"A Woad? In league with someone not of Briton?" She questioned with a quirked eyebrow, not positive that working with these people would be the best idea she'd ever had. Then again, she had done far more idiotic things in her day…

"An understanding." He corrected. "Should you find yourself willing to share what information you learn of our common enemy, we shall in turn be willing to grant you free passage back to Hadrian's Wall."

The offer was a tempting one. She had prevailed in the Woad attack just hours previous, but would she be so lucky again? Breck knew that she had compromised herself now that she had killed five Woads and had gained the attention of the rest of their clan; journeying through the thick, Woad infested forest once she was headed back to the Wall would not be as easy the second time around. "You swear to hold true to these terms?" She asked him firmly.

"I give you my word." He assured her. "The guard has seen your face – you will not be attacked."

Breck eyed the both male and female Woads staring her down and felt the tension leave her shoulders as they all lowered their weapons, albeit some looked quite reluctant to do so. With a nod, she finally turned her gaze back to the old man. "I agree to these terms." She informed him. "I shall inform you of the Saxon movement upon my return." She promised. "To whom shall I call after?"

"My name is Merlin." He said, inclining his head towards her. "And from whom shall I anticipate the call?

The name rang familiar in her ears for a moment and she hazily remembered hearing it on Arthur's lips once or twice, though she could not remember the context in which it had been used. Breck was quite amazed that she had somehow managed to form an allegiance with the barbaric tribe in front of her and felt an even greater sense of pride in herself for having successfully done what so many others had been unable to. "I am Breck." She answered.

Merlin nodded once. "Breck, young Celt, we shall meet again very soon."

Then Merlin and the Woads behind him seemed to melt back into the trees from which they had appeared, leaving her standing by the lake with only one lone arrow at her feet to prove they had been there in the first place. The movement on their part was so quick that if she had blinked she would have missed it and she shook her head in wonder at the strangeness of them. When she glanced over at Lugh, he was eyeing the forest just as curiously and she patted his nose before hoisting herself onto his back.

"My surprise is as great as yours, old friend." Breck whispered to him, eyeing the now still forest before them one last time before turning Lugh in the opposite direction, continuing on their journey but feeling the watchful gaze of the Woads on her back until the thick foliage no longer in sight.

* * *

**A/N: A big, huge, humongous, GIGANTIC thank you is now being sent out to both Kristall and AnadoraBlack for their words of encouragement and for keeping me on the right track! And another thank you to all of my loyal reviewers for sticking with the story! I, along with Breck, became a bit lost but now we're both found! It isn't over yet, my loverlies. Hang on to your hats!**

**I tried to stay as historically accurate with the Kingdom of Alban and such, but there's only so much information you can find. What you see in this story is the information that was the most consistent in my researching!**


	20. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

The road was rather uneventful after the encounter with the Woads, much to Breck's disappointment, and she reached the old abandoned forts stationed along the Antonine Wall after another two days' ride. She had not visited this part of the country in nearly four years but the eeriness that surrounded the deserted towns along the wall was still as poignant as she remembered. This Wall, much like Hadrian's Wall, had been built and inhabited by the Romans in an attempt to keep the neighboring locals from infiltrating the Roman-controlled lands on the other side, only the people it protected against in this case were called the Picts and they lived in northernmost area of the island. Eventually, it had proven too difficult to fend off both the Picts _and _the Woads and the Romans had instead focused solely on occupying Hadrian's Wall.

Breck eyed the surroundings, having never seen this Wall actually inhabited and in use, and urged Lugh ahead onto the main road to put the ghostly scene behind her.

From here, the small town on the coast, just past Abernathy, would only be half a days' ride away. It had been a long while since she had last seen Melcon, the man that she regularly paid in order to receive information on the Saxons, but she knew that he would not turn her away when she arrived. When Breck had still been a girl, she and Kenrick had taken refuge with Melcon's uncle, Gede, the appointed leader of the village, upon first arriving on the island. The two older men had formed a companionship to an extent despite their stay being short lived (they had left for Hadrian's Wall after only living in the village for a month) and in return, she and Melcon had formed their own alliance when her travels had brought her back into his company. Breck would not necessarily consider Melcon to be her friend but, with the right price and their common enemy, he had become her ally.

While Breck was eager to return to the small, seaside village for a bit of rest, she was always wary of the place whenever she was staying there. The town itself was shut off from the majority of the country since you were forced to cross through a large almost mountain-like pass in order to reach it. While many who were uneducated in the ways of battle might find it to be largely safe, Breck considered it to be a trap. If an enemy filtered in through the pass, there would be no escape behind them – if the enemy came by sea, their only option would be to outrun them. And given the knowledge that the Saxons could be en route at any moment, this left her feeling a bit antsy.

As she and Lugh made their way along the main roads, Breck couldn't help but notice that the passing villages seemed much less populated then usual. She was well aware of the previous fighting between the Romans and the Picts and how severely it had depleted the Pict numbers, but that had been years ago. Surely they would have repopulated by then? It was hard to remember now, but she thought she recalled these lands being fairly busy the last time she had come through this area. Now, as she passed town after town, the number of inhabitants was scarce, if not almost non-existent and the people that _did _reside amongst the land were finicky and hid upon immediately spotting her.

What had been happening here since she had left? What had these people been suffering through?

About an hour later, Breck guided Lugh off of the road and over to a good sized pond so they could take a quick break. Her body was beginning to feel achy from having been riding atop the horse for such an extended period of time and she took a moment to stretch and crack her bones once she had hopped down. Lugh snorted at her, probably in thanks for the break, and trotted over to lap up the water of the pond. In turn, she grabbed a bit of food for the both of them and offered him an apple before indulging in one herself. The green fruit immediately made her think of Tristan but she firmly pushed his image out of her mind and instead took to inspecting the markings on the trees around her. She recognized most of the symbols and knew she was drawing close to the fork in the road that would lead her to Abernathy and then eventually Melcon's village. They should be arriving in a matter of hours.

"Not much further." She reassured Lugh before scooping a handful of the water from the pond and drinking it. It wasn't very pleasant to the taste but the small gulp had relieved the dryness in her mouth enough until she could obtain proper water at her destination.

At the sound of approaching horses and the creak of wagon wheels, Breck straightened up and then wandered back over to the road, shielding her eyes against the bright sun in order to inspect the cause of the ruckus. In the distance she could spot a large group of people heading down from the north, lead by a handful of men riding atop their horses and lugging dozen of bags behind them. Breck frowned at the curious sight and then whistled for Lugh, hoisting herself atop his back once more and then clicking her tongue at him so that he would begin to trot forward. She reached for the necklace around her neck, the one her mother had gifted to her father, and pulled it to rest outside of her tunic – this symbol of the clan of her forebears had saved her neck in this province more then once and she was sure would do so again.

"Who goes there?" One of the men called once she was close enough, looking on guard. The language he used held a few minor differences, but it was similar to that of her Gaelic tongue and she understood him easily.

"I am an ally of your people, no foe." Breck responded in her mother's language, holding her hand up in peace as they came to a halt in front of one another.

The Gaelic that reached the man's ears made him relax and he motioned for the villagers to begin filing past them. She eyed them as they went by, noting that the large group of people consisted mainly of young women and children that looked absolutely frightened out of their wits. She also noticed that they appeared to have brought with them the whole of their livestock and numerous bags of grains and fruits, signaling to her that they had no intention of returning to whatever place they had come from.

The man's eyes dropped to her necklace for a moment as he studied her necklace. "Your clan is Conmhaicne?"

"Aye, of the county Sligo in Connacht." She responded with a nod. Breck saw no need to inform them that she had never actually been to the place she spoke of and even less reason to reveal that she was only half Celtic. "From where do you hail?"

"Mortlach." He answered with a nod.

"That is far north." Breck mused, familiar with the Pict town that was almost the northernmost shore of the island. "What motivates you to relocate the entirety of your village?"

"Have you not heard, girl?" One of the other men growled at her. "The Saxons mean to invade soon. Rumor has it they mean to claim every bit of this land – starting from the northernmost counties and pillaging their way south."

Breck already knew there could be a possible attack thanks to the letter from Melcon, but it was never certain if the Saxons would follow through with the plans they made and she had harbored doubts as to whether or not they would come to the island. But if this particular rumor had caused an entire town to relocate, there had to be truth behind it – the Saxons _were _coming. The knowledge made her feel almost giddy with excitement.

"Aye, rumor reached my ears." She said distractedly, her mind racing with the information. "How came you to be made aware?"

"Saxon scouting parties – they litter the lands." Answered the first man.

This news made her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Perhaps the Saxon invasion was not as far away as they had originally gathered.

"Come, leave this girl – we must make haste." Said the man's companion before shouting for his horse to gallop away, leaving them in his wake.

"Where do you flee?" She asked with interest.

"The lands of your forebears. Tis rumored to be a safe haven." He answered her with an inclination of his head towards her. "If your journey travels you north, I advise you turn back now. Death will surely await you if you shan't."

Breck nodded that she understood his warning and then they shared a wave before the man pulled the reigns of his horse and galloped away. She watched him go for a moment and then eyed the villagers around her. It was a relief that these people had been smart enough to leave before the Saxons arrived and she only hoped that their neighboring allies had enough sense to do the same. It comforted her to see the faces of the children that Cerdic would _not _destroy and set alight the flame within her again to avenge those that _had _suffered his wrath.

Despite the warnings of some of the villagers, Breck dug her heels into Lugh's flanks and sent him forward to continue on with her journey, leaving the now safe Picts behind her.

Cerdic was coming to the island. And there were still many things that needed to be handled before he arrived.

* * *

Breck finally spotted the large pass just around an hour before the sun would be going down and sighed in relief, patting Lugh's neck as they trotted up to it slowly. Her mind had been constantly racing ever since the conversation with the Pict villager and it was all she could do not to burst out of her skin with excitement. Cerdic would be on the island and soon. The moment she'd been waiting for ever since she was thirteen years old was nearly upon her and so close she could practically taste the sweetness of revenge in her mouth. Breck decided she would not linger in Alban for long, only for as long as it took to give both her and Lugh the rest they needed and acquire armor for the battle ahead. Then she would rush back to Hadrian's Wall to update Arthur and make sure he was prepared for the impending attack.

Arthur – she cringed as she allowed herself to briefly contemplate the storm that awaited her back in Briton.

"Go no further." A voice called out to her, dragging her thoughts away from Cerdic and Arthur and throwing her back into the present.

"Whoa." Breck said to Lugh gently, pulling on his reigns to make him halt.

Her eyes searched around her quickly and for a long moment she couldn't see where the owner of the voice had hidden himself, but once she searched the trees surrounding the pass she needed to go through, she could spot various men loaded down with bows and all sorts of weapons hiding amongst the dense foliage. One by one they began to come out from the trees, reminding her of the way the Woads had approached her back in Briton. These men were quite different from the thin, wispy blue people, though, with their burly appearances, dirty clothes, and rough exteriors. They reminded her greatly of the Saxons she had travelled with when she had been a child and even more so of the Celts she had lived amongst when residing in Ireland.

"What business brings you here?" One of the men asked in his booming brogue. He was older, with numerous scars on his face and neck, and she thought he looked vaguely familiar.

"I am an ally to Melcon." She stated. Lugh stamped in agitation, not liking that they were being surrounded, and she put a calming hand on his neck. "I mean no harm – my business brings me here both bearing and seeking information on Cerdic the Saxon."

The men shifted around her at the name and she watched them for their reaction until the older man spoke again. "A name we hear more oft then not." The man mused as he eyed her suspiciously. He did not lower the weapon he had trained on her. "Can you testify to the truth of your statement?"

"Only with this." She said, reaching into her vest and producing the letter that Melcon had sent to her only a few weeks previous. One of the men came and plucked it out of her hand, making Lugh move away from him quickly, and then handed it to the man she was conversing with. "Tis a letter of correspondence between Melcon and myself." She informed him as he scanned the note. "I came to know him when residing in your village some fourteen years past." She further explained. "My father, Kenrick, and I resided with Melcon and his uncle, Gede."

The man lowered both his weapon and the note then with a look of recognition on his face. "The half-Saxon? You travelled through these borders some four years past?"

Breck was surprised and relieved that he remembered her. It was obvious these people were not very untrusting of outsiders with the prospect of war hanging about the lands these days and his remembrance of her would make getting into the village considerably easier. "Aye."

The older man motioned for his comrades to back off before stepping up to her horse and handing the note back to her. "You have proven the truth of your words. If it be news you bear of our common enemy, then you are granted admittance." He said with a nod before stepping away from her.

"Many thanks." Breck said with a nod in his direction, stuffing the letter back into her vest. "I shall tell Melcon of your strict guard." She conceded before remembering what the Pict on the rode had told her about the scouts in the area. "Do be aware – Saxon scouts roam freely, coming from the north." She informed him.

"My thanks for the warning." He said before motioning for her to continue on.

Once Breck was through the pass, it was a short trip to the small village. Already she could see the sea out in the distance and smell the salt in the air and it was a comfort to know that she had finally reached her destination.

The closer she came to the center of the village, the more people she began to see. Not unsurprisingly, most regarded her with a sense of caution or turned in the other direction as she rode by them. She did notice a few men running further into the town ahead of her and assumed they were going to warn someone of her arrival. It was off that these people had not fled like so many of their countrymen had but then she remembered that news usually did not reach this secluded town as quickly as it reached the others in the open plains. The villagers were obviously aware that danger was headed in their direction but perhaps did not realize how _close _it actually was to their doorstep.

It was just like arriving at Hadrian's Wall again – as soon as she reached the center of the village and slid off Lugh's back, the people all around her eyed her suspiciously and with uncertainty as to who she was and why she was there. Breck searched the crowd for the one face she knew she would recognize, all the while keeping a protective hand on Lugh, then spotted Melcon making his way through the mass of loitering people towards her. She knew that Melcon had assumed his uncle's position of power once he was of age and the crowd parted for him as he shouted for them to move out of the way. The man was a good fifteen years older then her; he was a bit portly but still very broad, with blonde and grey hair, and towered over most of the crowd. His beard was smattered salt and pepper grey and he appeared to have obtained a few new scars since the last time she'd seen him.

Melcon recognized her once she finally stepped around her horse and smirked at her, coming forward with his hand extended. "Breck, the Saxon-Celt." He greeted. "The last person I might have thought would be calling on me."

"Melcon, the Maeatae." She responded, shaking his hand firmly before releasing him. "It has been many years."

"Aye." He agreed before eyeing her blood stained clothes. "I trust the road was more of a danger to your enemies then yourself?" He asked with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. Breck nodded and she thought she saw some of the men around her shift uncomfortably. "What brings you to our borders?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Did you not receive my correspondence?"

"Aye, I _did _receive it only a few weeks past." Breck answered. "My restlessness has driven me to seek more information in person." She continued. "And I come bearing more for _you _thanks to my travels."

Melcon looked highly interested now and motioned for her to follow him. Breck grabbed Lugh's reigns and fell into step next to Melcon as he led her through the village. It hadn't changed much since she'd left with the rural huts and buildings looking vastly different from the more modernized accommodations at Hadrian's Wall. Most of the people around her looked like they had seen a lot of hard labor in their day and she was sure some of them looked on the verge of keeling over at any moment. It most likely was not for lack of effort of Melcon's part but rather from lack of resources in the scant area.

"I wish to hear this news." Melcon started as the villagers went back to their business. "Yet I presume you require rest first and foremost?"

"Aye, my thanks."

Melcon stopped and pointed towards a slightly larger hut just down the way. "You will find an extra bed amongst my family – inform my wife of my decision and she shall not turn you away." He instructed before reaching a hand out for Lugh's reigns. "I shall show him to the stables. He will be taken good care of." He promised.

Breck quirked an eyebrow and then handed over the reigns. "And what is the cost of such a service?"

Melcon smirked. "Ten coins."

Breck blanched at the price but began fishing out the money anyway. This was the exact reason why she had brought her money along in the first place – Melcon was _not _Arthur and she knew that she could not expect the same amenities she'd been freely provided with back at the Wall. Anything she required from Melcon always came at a price and he was most of the reason that she required money on her at all times. "You will drain me of my coin, Pict." She grumbled.

With a short laugh, Melcon took the coins and shoved them into his pocket. "Tis the way of the world." He said as an excuse. Breck huffed at his words and quickly undid the ties of her large bag before throwing it over her shoulder and patting Lugh affectionately. "Go and rest, ally. We shall council in the morning." Melcon urged.

Breck nodded, gave Lugh one last loving pat, and then headed down the road towards Melcon's hut, eager for the food and safe resting place that awaited her.

* * *

_Hadrian's Wall_

Arthur ran a hand through his hair and finally set his quill down with a heavy sigh. He had business to attend to and had been trying to focus on the letter he was sending out to Rome but simply could not concentrate long enough to get the words down on his parchment. For five days now Breck had been gone and for the fifth day in a row, Arthur found himself incapable of thinking about anything else. The initial fury he had felt over her having taken her leave to go gallivanting across the country (and without as much as a by your leave, no less) had dissipated and in its place sat nothing but unwavering concern for his friend's safety.

Devran had apparently been too afraid to come to Arthur about her departure and waited until Jols showed up for work to tell _him _instead. That was over an hour after Breck had left. Arthur and his knights had been in the midst of a much needed meeting when Jols had come into the council room and, as gently as he could, informed him that Breck had left the Wall and was headed to the northern area of the island.

Chaos had broken out almost instantaneously – Gawain and Galahad had immediately attempted to receive his permission to chase after her, Bors had started ranting about how idiotic she was, and Lancelot and Dagonet had taken it upon themselves to calm Arthur down in his rage. Even Tristan, who was normally quiet and impossible to read, had begun angrily demanding any information Jols had. Arthur had been tempted to allow Gawain and Galahad to drag her back to this side of the wall and even wanted to join them in the task, but once he was thinking clearly again he decided against it.

Arthur loved Breck like a sister but he simply could not put his men at such a risk just to chase her down.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose now and then reached for his wine goblet, drinking it quickly. He didn't know what upset him more – that she could get herself killed or the fact that she had not told him goodbye. He was certain she had only disappeared the way she had out of fear of being interfered with but it didn't lessen the blow of her abrupt departure. Arthur shook his head and refilled his goblet before making the decision to abandon his useless letter and get some fresh air.

He, along with everyone else, had no clue as to why she had chosen to leave. Gawain blamed himself, thinking that his reaction to her rejection had driven her to flee Hadrian's Wall for good. Though he couldn't be certain what had motivated her sudden journey, Arthur had reassured the man that he did not believe this to be the her reason for leaving. There was obvious tension between Gawain, Breck, and Tristan but if she had left the way she did, it had been for a _serious _reason. .

Arthur was no fool – he had seen the way she had changed since coming to Hadrian's Wall. He had always known her to be strong-willed and stubborn, a real force of nature to be reckoned with. But the more she became entangled in the triangle that had formed with his two Sarmatian friends, the more she appeared to become lost and completely unlike herself. He understood her trepidations – she would never confess it to him _or _herself, but Breck was falling in love and it was something she had never experienced before. He knew she had no idea how to deal with it and seeing as Breck had always believed she could handle _anything _(Arthur scoffed at this in sarcasm), he could see why this was so bothersome to her. As much as he hatedto admit it, maybe this time away would be good for her. Maybe this trip would finally show her how to be in love while still being the woman she had grown to be.

At least, that's what he hoped.

Arthur paused and glanced around the mostly deserted streets. The knights would probably be drinking themselves into oblivion in the tavern, just as they normally did, and he strongly considered joining them. But first he wished to speak with one particular Sarmatian that he knew would more then likely be in the same place that Arthur had spotted him in for the past three nights. The man ha kept his secrets for far too long and Arthur wanted to know what was going on in his head. With one last glance towards the tavern he turned and headed towards the steps that would lead him up to the top of the large, stone wall that guarded their fort.

Sure enough, just as Arthur had suspected, he spotted one lone figure leaning against the waist-high stone banister and staring out into the open wilderness that lay on the other side of the wall. Arthur pursed his lips and walked towards him, waving away a few guards that were lingering nearby so they could speak privately.

"You present a prime target for Woads…" Arthur said to catch his attention.

Tristan spared him a glance and then turned his gaze back out ahead of him, his eyes ever searching the trees. "Not if they are distracted by another…" He trailed off slowly. He didn't have to say what he was really thinking for Arthur to understand his meaning.

_Not if they have gotten their hands on Breck._

Arthur sighed and nodded before offering his full goblet of wine to the usually silent Sarmatian. Tristan eyed the goblet for a long moment before straightening up to his full height and accepting it, inclining his head towards Arthur in thanks. The man must have been feeling just as stressed as Arthur, because he drank the entire contents of the glass in three large gulps. Arthur suddenly found himself wondering at the stubbornness of both Breck _and _Tristan. Though they were both reluctant to admit it, it was more then obvious to Arthur that the two cared about one another and had for quite some time. Yet neither seemed willing to admit to _each other _how they felt and instead continued to avoid the topic all together and deal with the tension their obstinacy created. In short – they were being ridiculous.

The Roman eyed his knight when he handed him back the empty goblet, then set the glass down to cross his arms and stare down the Sarmatian. "You care for her?" He finally asked.

Tristan looked over at him sharply and they stared one another down for a long second before the man turned his eyes away. "Do you really need to ask?" He retorted pointedly.

The fact that Tristan had more or less admitted to having feelings for Breck immensely surprised Arthur, but he did not let it show on his face. "Yet, you will not inform her." He accused.

"I believed her to be taken with Gawain…until recent days." Tristan said after a moment of hesitation, refusing to meet Arthur's eyes. "It leaves me confused as to why she would not be – he is a commendable companion for her."

"Because Breck cares for _you_." Arthur said matter-of-factly, making Tristan finally look at him again with slightly wider eyes. "And you are as worthy a companion as Gawain, if not better." Arthur continued encouragingly. He knew Breck would ring his neck for having spilled her secrets to Tristan but he was sick of seeing them act like imbeciles around one another, especially considering how uncertain their futures were. "So when she returns, what is your course of action?"

Tristan laughed shortly and gave him a disbelieving look. "You are her father now?"

"I am the one closest to that role." Arthur countered, making Tristan close his mouth instantly. "Answer my question."

Tristan heaved and Arthur was surprised to see the uncertainty that was obvious on his friend's face. Normally, he was not so easy to read and Arthur was certain this was the most open that he had ever seen Tristan. "After I strangle her?" He questioned sarcastically, making Arthur smirk. Tristan shook his head and turned his gaze back out to the forest. "I am unsure…" He trailed off. "I do not know if I can love."

"I think, my friend, it may surprise you what can be possible when the right person enters your life." Arthur said, placing a hand on Tristan's shoulder reassuringly.

Tristan nodded and then shot him one last look. "We shall see, then."

Arthur knew that was the best he would get from Tristan and nodded as they fell into silence. He noted that Tristan didn't look quite as troubled as he had appeared when Arthur arrived and felt a sense of pride in himself, having felt he had finally done some good in this situation. He pulled his hand away from his friend's shoulder to grab the abandoned goblet before motioning for Tristan to come with him.

"Come, join me in the tavern for a drink." He urged.

Tristan nodded and began following him until the sound of a hawk's screech reached their ears. Tristan froze immediately, his eyes turning up to the sky expectantly, and lifted his arm out to accept the bird once she was close enough. Arthur said nothing about the fact that Tristan was attempting to use the hawk in order to scout Breck's location and watched as the Sarmatian frowned at his bird in disappointment before glaring back out at the forest. Though Arthur wasn't completely sure how Tristan could tell what kind of news the bird brought to him, it appeared the search had been unsuccessful.

"She will return. She is smart and a skilled fighter." Arthur reassured him. "And as stubborn as they come."

Tristan merely nodded and then shook his head with a smirk, turning his gaze back to his commanding officer. "She punched me." Tristan revealed, looking as though he was still a bit surprised she'd actually done it.

Arthur's eyebrows shot up and he laughed heartily for the first time in five days. "Of course she did." He mused, shaking his head in amusement.

"Fierce woman…" Tristan said (probably more to himself then to Arthur) with a shake of his head.

Then he motioned for Arthur to lead the way and the two men left the Wall, both clearly in much greater spirits then anyone had seen them in since the redhead Celt that they both cared for had left to embark on her own secret journey.

* * *

**A/N: YEEHAW! (I don't know why I just got country on you…)**

**By semi-popular demand, there's a peak into what's going down at the Wall. Likey or no likey?**


	21. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

The first thing she did when she awoke the next morning was locate the local blacksmith, present him with the armor her father had once worn that she had kept all these years, and instructed him that she needed it resized to fit her form instead and as quickly as possible. She'd had to give him more then half of her coin and a number of her trinkets, but the man took her measurements and then promised to have it finished within two days time.

It was such a strange difference being in Alban then at Hadrian's Wall. She had to admit that waking up to the sound of the waves on the shore was quite soothing to hear and it was very convenient for bathing, laundry, and collecting water, but there was also something to be said for the plush greenery of Briton. The quality of the land there held much more promise for sustenance and the protection of the Wall was unparalleled, providing a much better life for its occupants. While she bathed in the shore and cleaned the Woad blood from her clothes, she found herself missing the laughing, healthy children that ran about town and spending her nights drinking mugs of ale with the knights. And, truth be told, she missed Tristan. _Greatly_. But before she could get carried away with those thoughts she pushed them firmly from her mind, reminding herself that she was not allowed to think on him until her task here was complete.

Sometime later, feeling fresh from her bath and glad to have on clean, dry clothes again, she wandered back up into town only to be greeted by an impatient looking Melcon. He informed her that there was a meeting to be held shortly to discuss the Saxons and that her presence would be required in the council room before turning on his heel and leaving her to get her affairs in order.

So now, Breck lingered inconspicuously in the background as the small council room filled up with the men of the town. She gazed around the group, examining both the young and aged faces of the men before her with a frown. Most of the men before her did not look to be fit for battle – either the faces were far too young or far too old, and the ones who did look the proper age to fight off the fierce Saxons were obviously lacking the conditioning to even stand a chance. Even some of the guard at the opening of the pass (who were not present) hadn't looked very promising and she suspected they were probably the best warriors they had. It was disheartening to think it, but if the Picts inhabiting this land were anything like the men before her they wouldn't stand a chance. The Saxons were going to trample them without even batting an eye.

When Melcon finally stood from his seat at the head of the table, the room immediately fell silent. He cleared his throat, crossed his arms, and then began to speak. "Brothers, these are troubled time we live in." He stated, eyeing the men around him. "As you well know the Saxons mean to invade our land, though by which sea we do not yet know. I have received word that they will be upon us within a matter of weeks, maybe even less. It is time for us to decide our course of action."

"We must fight." An older, rowdy looking man spoke up. "We must protect our lands!"

"With what?" Another man countered mockingly. "We've naught but rusty blades and old bows on our side. My cousin," a few men heaved at hearing this, making her believe this man's kin was not well liked, "believes the Saxon numbers to be in the thousands. What chance have we against an army such as this?"

"Your cousin is a fool." Someone jibed. "Thousands?" He continued mockingly before scoffing in disbelief while murmurs broke out around the table.

"Ulaid is correct." Melcon interjected, quieting the room again. "I have seen this army myself and it is both vast and terrible. If we fight, we cannot stand alone. We must join forces with our countrymen."

"And what have they done for us?" Came a bitter rebuttal.

"Aye! Where be the help of our countrymen as our people starve? And where be the trade that once helped us thrive? They have abandoned us! Why should we aid them?"

Breck's eyebrows rose as she listened to the murmurs of agreement that broke out amongst the men. It was obvious that the pride of this village had been wounded considerably in their past, but would these men really allow death to reach them because they were too proud to ask for help? This village needed the aid of allies if it was to survive the beast that was coming for them but if these men could not see that, then the hard-headed fools were going to be doomed. Try as she might, she could not bring herself to feel sorry for them. This was their own decision and they were sealing their own fate.

"I say we seal the pass; no one is allowed in, no one is allowed out. See if those Saxon bastards may reach us then." A man growled, slamming his hand on the table and making a few people voice their agreement loudly.

"Do not be an imbecile." Melcon shot at him in annoyance. "The entirety of our people would be dead from starvation in a month."

"Then we outrun the bastards and head south."

"If we flee, the Saxons win." A man argued.

"Should we _fight _the Saxons will win." Countered another.

As many arguments broke out at once, Melcon started looking just as annoyed as Breck was beginning to feel. She supposed it might be because she was used to the order and expertise that she had always seen when it came to both the Saxons and Arthur's warriors, but these men were entirely too disorganized for her taste. Melcon finally caught her eye and shook his head at her in irritation before holding his hands up to silence the men before them. "Brothers, I understand this decision is not an east one, but a decision we must make." He informed them with a heavy sigh. "But not before we hear the news my ally has come bearing." He finished before motioning for Breck to step forward.

It was a little nerve-racking to have all of their eyes on her once she pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning on and stepped forward. Most of the men looked at her with both distaste and distrust, obviously not seeing what this foreign girl could possibly have to contribute to the meeting that they were holding but some did look to her expectantly. Breck eyed the men around her for a moment before walking around the table to go and stand next to the large map that had been hung on the far wall.

"Only a few hours' ride from Abernathy," she began to explain, "I encountered an entire village fleeing from Mortlach." She informed them, pointing to the town high up on the map before turning back to the men. "When I enquired their reasons for fleeing I was told of the Saxon scouting parties that have landed already and begun to scour the lands of this island. And these villagers are not the only to flee – the towns along the road are nearly desolate."

Murmuring broke out at her words, many of the men in the room suddenly looking far more concerned, until an older man spoke up to silence the others. "Then how are we to band together?" He asked irritably. "We've no one to band _with_!"

"There _are _some that remain." Breck said with a shrug. "Abernathy was still quite active when I rode through."

Melcon looked to her with a frown on his face and then glanced over at the map behind her. "They land north, then?" He asked contemplatively.

"Aye. The projected route begins far north and then takes them south." Breck replied. "They plan to claim the entire island. And if their scouting parties are already at work, the invasion shall come very soon, I can assure you this." More murmuring broke out amongst the men and she stepped over to Melcon's side, gaining their attention again. "I understand I do not live by this land, but I suggest you flee like so many of your countrymen have. It is your greatest chance for survival."

"I will not leave my home." A man argued quickly. "My father and his father before him lived and died in this village – I shall share their fates."

"Where would we flee to?" A man piped up, obviously more keen to the idea now that he knew the enemy was so close. "What place is safe from these savages?"

"The Picts I met fled to my country – Ireland."

"What of Hadrian's Wall?" Melcon asked. "Would we be accepted there?"

"Hadrian's Wall?" A few men asked skeptically.

Breck frowned and thought on that for a long moment. Since it seemed Arthur was set on doing as many good deeds as he could Breck was positive he wouldn't turn these people away, but could she really afford to attempt to lead an entire village all the way back to Briton? If the Saxon army really was as close as she believed them to be, she needed to make her way back to the Wall with as much haste as she could so that her friends would have more then enough time to prepare for the impending invasion. Then there was also the matter of the Woads. They had granted her free passage through the forest whenever she was to return to the Wall, but she highly doubted they would allow these strangers the same courtesy – the Woads wanted to have their land back, not give it freely to these foreign Picts.

"Artorius would accept you; I fear the Woads that separate us and the Wall, however, will not."

"I have heard of this Artorius." Someone to her left spoke up quickly. "And of his Sarmatians. Rumors portray them as bloodthirsty monsters – what might say them on this matter?"

"The Sarmatians serve Artorius and _his _duty is to Rome, first and foremost." Breck said with a frown. "Artorius may be willing to lend his aid but we cannot ask the same of his Sarmatians." She finished firmly, still holding fast to her wish that the brave Sarmatian knights not be subjected to this battle that did not truly involve them.

"Why? Too cowardly?"

The jibe made most of the men agree eagerly and she growled in anger at the man that had spoken before slamming her hand on the table to catch the attention of the room again. Many disbelieving and startled eyes swung in her direction but she ignored them to glare at the man who had spoken (and who now looked quite frightened). "Those men have sacrificed their lives time and again to a cause that is not their own. Are _you _so cowardly that you ask men not of these lands to fight your war for you while you tuck tail and hide like scared dogs?"

"Why you – " The man said angrily, standing from his seat.

"Enough of this." Melcon interrupted. "Breck speaks the truth – this is _our _home. We must defend it ourselves."

He fell silent for a long moment and began stroking his grey beard while he lost himself in his own thought. Breck straightened up, she and the man still glaring at one another, and crossed her arms. The sooner she left this wretched place, the better. These men were even more insufferable then Tristan could be and she found herself wanting to be back in the company of the noble knights back in Briton and away from these cowards. At least _they _were not afraid to fight when the time called for it, despite the fact that most of the skirmishes were not fought out of free will. It was hard to feel sorry for these villagers anymore when they were so unwilling to help themselves. She had said her piece now and whatever fate met them when she left was God's will in her eyes. They would have to face the consequences of their decisions.

"There is no battleground more common then our own lands." Melcon finally said. "We will send word to the warriors in Abernathy – then we will join forces with them against this enemy." There was a brief uprising of argument until Melcon shouted over the commotion. "My word is final!"

With that being said, the men began to filter out of the room. Some of them looked excited at the prospect of war while most of the others looked highly disgruntled. Breck lingered behind, watching them go before looking down at Melcon as he dropped into a chair ungracefully and pinched the bridge of his nose. While Breck's annoyance with his warriors was still flowing heavily through her veins, she did have sympathy for her ally. The fact that he was willing to defend his home made her admire him, but she had a feeling that he knew as well as she did how futile the attempt might actually end up being.

"I grow too old for wars like these." Melcon heaved, though she had a feeling he was speaking more to himself then to her. When he looked up at her, it was easy to see the age lines standing prominent on his skin in his distress. "How long shall you linger?"

"I requested new armor from your blacksmith. I shall take my leave once he has finished the job." Breck said. Melcon nodded and then pulled over the stack of maps resting on the table next to him to begin pouring over them with a pensive look on his face.

Though they were not very good friends, Breck still felt compelled to say something to try and ease his anxiety. "Melcon," she started, resting a hand on his shoulder, "where there is a will, there is a way. My God be with you and your men."

Melcon nodded at her gratefully and she flashed a quick smile before moving for the door. "My thanks, Breck." He called to her, making her pause and look at him over her shoulder. "And may your God help you to finally obtain your vengeance."

* * *

_Breck leaned heavily against her mother, sleep still taking hold of most of her body. She yawned widely, pressing her hand against her mouth in an attempt to conceal it before snuggling as far into Emer's side as the woman's pregnant belly would allow. It was late into the night and while Breck had no idea why her parents had seen it fit to travel in the middle of the night, but she was trying hard to stay awake so that she might enjoy this journey with them. She had no idea where they were going but it excited her to know they were leaving behind the people that hated her and her mother so much. Breck was trying valiantly to stay awake with her parents. _

_"Sleep, little flame." Emer encouraged. _

"_I do not," another wide yawn, "wish to." Breck said with a shake of her head. The rock of the wagon was trying to lull her to sleep but she fought against it. "I wish to stay awake with you and father." _

_Emer smiled softly and kissed the top of her head. Breck returned it and then looked to her other side where her father was holding the reins and guiding the horses that pulled the wagon. The look on his face was unreadable, but she frowned when she felt the tension rolling off of his body. Reached out towards him, she pressed her much smaller hand to his cheek, making him look down at her.  
_

"_Father?" She implored. _

"_Rest easy, dear daughter." He said with a forced smile. "I am well." _

_Breck nodded and turned her eyes forward again. There was nothing but open land ahead of them and she was happy to know that they would never live amongst the Saxons again. Now they would be free; free from war and their hateful looks and the man Cerdic that despised her so much. It left her feeling lighter then she could ever remember and she smiled at her mother once more before leaning over to kiss the woman's pregnant belly. _

"_A kiss for your sibling?" Emer asked adoringly. _

_Breck nodded. "He shall grow big and strong as father is." She said, motioning her hands around to enunciate her words. "And he shall _never _know of Cerdic or his mean son Cynric." She added with a knowing nod, feeling a bit jealous over the baby she believed to be her brother because he would never have to feel the hatred she had felt. _

"_The baby is a boy, then?" Emer asked with a quirked eyebrow. _

"_Aye." _

_Emer opened her mouth to say something else but stopped short. Breck frowned, having heard a strange noise only a moment ago, and looked up at her mother to see what had made her pause – then her jaw dropped and terror filled her. An all too familiar looking arrow was sticking out from the center of Emer's torso and the woman looked at it in shock as blood began to seep from the wound, swinging disbelieving eyes at Breck. _

"_Emer?" Kenrick asked on alert. "Emer!" He then shouted when he saw what had happened. _

"_Mothe –" Breck began to say before pain exploded just underneath her right collarbone. When she looked down, the arrow sticking from her chest made her wheeze in pain and turn her eyes up to her father in a plea for help._

"_Breck, no..." Kenrick whispered, his face contorting with emotion. Then the sound of battle cries reached through the thud of blood pounding in her ears and Kenrick leapt from the wagon, his sword in hand and a roar or rage tearing from his lips -_

* * *

"Breck!"

She was torn from the dream that had viciously begun to replay the night her family had been ambushed so abruptly, that she could not discern where she was when she finally opened her eyes. Was she in Alban? Was she at the Wall? Was she still in the middle of the ambush? When the feel of a hand on her shoulder registered through her sleep-fogged mind, she let out a cry and had her dagger pressed to the throat of the person that had woken her in the blink of an eye. Once Breck focused more clearly though, she recognized it to be Melcon and he had his hands held up in defense.

Immediately she pulled her weapon away and heaved for air, sliding the dagger back into her boot as she sat up. "Forgive me." She said in apology, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her tunic as her breathing slowed.

"No, _my_ apologies." He said, checking his neck for any form of a wound. "It was not my intention to startle you."

Breck nodded and glanced around in confusion when she heard a bit of a commotion taking place outside of Melcon's hut. "Why have you woken me?" She asked, standing from the bed and going to glance out of the window. She could see that a dozen men were gathering in the middle of the town while multiple women and children looked on from the safety of their homes, fear obvious on their faces. "Has something happened?"

"A Saxon scouting party was spotted near our borders." Melcon said as he grabbed her weapons and thrust them into her hands. "Most of them were slain but a few escaped." Then he walked for the door and motioned for her to follow him.

Breck nodded curtly, not having to ask to know that they were going after the escaped Saxons. Once she was out of the hut she glanced up at the moon to try and assess how late into the night it was. This had been the third night that she had spent under Melcon's roof, the second full day in the village, and her time here had been quiet and uneventful until now. How in the world had the Saxon scouts made their way south so quickly? Though there was excitement in her veins at the prospect of killing Saxons, she knew that this would also be a prime opportunity to obtain some information from them.

"We must capture them." She said quickly to Melcon.

"We must _kill _them." Melcon corrected roughly. "Before they are allowed the chance to return to Cerdic and our position is compromised."

Breck shook her head in disagreement as they neared the group of men waiting for them. Lugh had already been saddled and was awaiting her arrival. She and Melcon both pulled themselves atop their horses as soon as they were close enough. "Melcon, see reason." She said hastily. Melcon's men glanced back and forth between them unsurely, watching the conversation unfold. "When shall we ever be presented with an opportunity such as this? Imagine the knowledge we can gain if we take one captive."

Melcon frowned and stared her down. "And if they do not talk?" He inquired haughtily.

"I shall _force _them." She promised.

Melcon mulled over her proposition for a long moment and then finally gave her a curt nod. "Aye, we shall not kill yet." He agreed, much to Breck's relief, before signaling for them to ride out.

It didn't take long to ride back to the borders of the village and they quickly reconvened with the guard at the opening of the pass, stopping briefly to get an update on what had transpired. According to the guard, a band of around eight Saxons had been spotted about a half hour ago, making their way through the trees close to the pass by three of the guards that had been out on their nightly patrol. The Saxons, believing they would be able to take down the outnumbered Picts, had moved in for the kill. Though one guard had fallen, the other two Picts managed to take down all but the two Saxons that had made a run for it and escaped.

"Almost a mile in that direction." The guard stated once he'd concluded to recount, pointing into a thick cluster of dark trees.

Melcon nodded and then turned back to Breck and the rest of the men. "We divide our forces. This half," he said motioning to the half dozen to his right, "come with me. The rest of you, follow Breck." He instructed. "They are still near. Aim to injure, not kill."

Breck nodded and then urged Lugh forward with the five men following close behind. She knew when she reached the area of the skirmish because the scarce moonlight bounced off the armor of the dead Saxons laying about the forest floor. She frowned and glanced around while the men moved about the area, trying to pick up any movement amongst the dark trees. She pulled her bow from her shoulder to have it at the ready and found herself wishing vainly that it was daytime. Then they might be able to locate their tracks in the forest floor and find them much faster.

"Fan out, lads." One of the men instructed, an axe clutched in his hand.

"Remember this – aim to injure." Breck reminded him as he swung his axe around in anticipation.

"I recall my instructions, woman." He snapped.

Breck didn't waste her breath arguing with him and turned her attention back to the forest. In the time it would have taken the Picts to get word to Melcon and for their party to reach the scene of the attack, the Saxons could have gone anywhere. The only comfort in this search was the knowledge that secrecy was one of the shortcomings of the brash and blood-lusting Saxons. Perhaps if they had abandoned their horses, they might have been able to find them sooner just by following the careless stomping of their heavy boots. But since they were all still horseback, she had to listen harder over the trotting.

They could have only been searching around for a matter of fifteen minutes when a whistle sounded in the air, making everyone looked to the left quickly.

"Melcon?" A man asked as he looked to her in uncertainty.

"Perhaps…" Breck answered.

A beat of silence followed and then another whistle sounded in the air. "Breck, we have captured them!" She distantly heard Melcon call from far away.

She flashed an excited smirk to the man next to her and then clicked her tongue to send Lugh trotting forward again. Breck took her time navigating the trees in the darkness, following the sound of the occasional whistle until she finally spotted Melcon waving her down. The Saxons were cursing the Picts that she could now see where restraining them and she was sure that she was the only one who could actually understand them. Once Lugh came to a halt next to the other horses, she swung herself down and patted him gently on the side before joining Melcon.

"What do they say?" Melcon asked curiously as the men tried to free themselves but without success.

"You do not wish to know." Breck warned, listening to the offensive names they were calling them.

Melcon narrowed his eyes at the men then motioned for her to go about her business before turning to talk to some of the other Picts, dismissing them for the night if they wished to go home.

Breck stepped forward, sizing up the two Saxons, and crossed her arms as she came to halt in front of them. This would not be the first time she had to coax information from somebody by the way of physical pain but it was not necessarily something that she liked doing. She might have felt worse about it if they weren't Saxons, but it was hard to locate her guilt at that moment while she eyed them. They ceased their struggling and regarded her with the combined expressions of confusion and distaste. Both looked like the typical Saxon; long beards, multiple braids in their greasy hair, rotten teeth that made her cringe. She regarded the one on the right, who looked a bit finicky, then moved closer to the one on the left. He squared his shoulders the best he could under his restraints and glared down at her.

"Where be the Saxon army?" She asked, the Germanic language feeling strange on her tongue since she hadn't used it in so many years.

The Saxon spit at her and she wiped her face in disgust before turning a glare on him. "I will not tell you, you Pict bitch." He growled.

Breck reached for the dagger in her boot and then pressed the tip of the blade to his neck, not letting him see the anger boiling underneath the surface. He didn't seem phased by her weapon but she had suspected he wouldn't – her real target of the two was the twitching man to the right. She had a feeling he would crack if he were persuaded enough and once he saw her disregard for them, it would only further tempt him to give her information.

"I am no Pict." She informed him before moving to drag the tip of her dagger from his right eyebrow all the way down to the collar of his tunic at an excruciatingly slow pace. The move was reminiscent of the scar her father had harbored on his own face and it was a cut that she had made on every Saxon she'd ever gotten under her blade. The man gritted his teeth at the pain, groaning in his attempt not to make any louder sounds until she pulled her weapon away. "I will only ask once more – _where be the Saxons_?"

"To hell with you." He sputtered at her.

Without another moment of hesitation she slid the dagger into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His eyes bugged at the strike and he immediately coughed up blood until his eyes slowly fell shut for the last time. It wasn't until she yanked her blade out of him that his dead body slumped forward and she only gazed at him for one more second before turning her attention to the other Saxon. He'd watched the incident with wide eyes and his breathing immediately kicked up. Though the Picts around her looked a little disconcerted by her actions, no one said anything against her as Breck raised the dagger to his face now and wordlessly mimicked what she had just done to his fellow Saxon. He cried out in pain, bracing himself against the gash until she pulled the blade away and got right in his face.

"Have you anything to tell me?" She questioned sternly.

"I…I…I…" He stammered.

Sensing his hesitation, Breck grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back hard. "Should you not tell me what I wish to know, you shall be unrecognizable to your own _mother _one I finish with you." She growled in warning. "Tell me." She commanded. When he took far too long sputtering over his words, Breck pressed the tip of her dagger into his ribcage and began slowly pushing her blade into him. He howled in pain but she only tightened her grip on his hair. "Tell me!"

When the Saxon she was stabbing realized she would not stop pushing her blade into him, he finally spoke up. "I will speak! I will speak!"

Breck yanked her blade out of him and released his hair as she took a step away from him and he sagged against the men holding him in relief, breathing hard. The two men were regarding her with a bit of apprehension now but held firm to the Saxon in their grasps. "Where is the army?" She questioned.

"They take their leave of the Nordic Empire…" He panted out "They will land…in a week's time."

The time of arrival would give her plenty of time to get back to Hadrian's Wall and that was a relief to her. She also knew it would take a long while for the Saxons to actually reach her position since they only ever travelled by foot, which would give Arthur plenty of time to prepare. The Picts, however, would have hardly any time to make themselves ready for the impending invasion. She cast a quick look over at Melcon before turning back to the Saxon. "What is Cerdic's mission?"

The Saxon looked at her in confusion. "How do you know him?" He questioned through his heavy pants.

Breck stabbed her dagger into his shoulder this time, making him howl in pain again. "What – is – his – _mission_?"

"Hadrian's Wall!" He blurted out.

Breck's frown was immediate. It had been obvious that the Saxons would eventually reach the Roman-occupied fort that resided at the Wall, but the knowledge that the place she'd come to call home was their actual _mission _was another matter all together. She frowned and dug her blade further into his shoulder, growling at him in her new anger. "Why?"

If Cerdic had discovered the widely known Arthur and wished to dispose of him, with God as her witness she was going to kill every Saxon with her bare hands.

"He knows the Wall will delay him taking over the whole of the island." He said hurriedly, cringing when she twisted her blade in his shoulder. "Once the Wall is overthrown," he continued, "there will be nothing standing in his way of claiming Briton."

After she was satisfied that he had no more information to give, she removed her dagger from his shoulder and took a few steps back, trying to collect her thoughts. Whether Cerdic knew of her friend of not, he was going to once he reached Hadrian's Wall and it upset her that she would not be able to keep the Sarmatians from the fight like she had hoped. Arthur and the Sarmatians were the only troops stationed at the Wall now and it's only real defenders – they would be the only men standing between the Saxons and the Roman occupied lands to the south once the Saxons arrived. _Unless…_

Her mind turned to the Woads and she wondered if there was any way they could strike a truce. Arthur's knights could greatly benefit from the vast numbers of Woads and, with their help, they might could actually form a strong opponent. Merlin had seemed willing enough to bargain with her before, perhaps she could mange to convince him an alliance would be in their best interest. It would be something she would speak to the strange man once they had their council on her journey back and hope her request did not inflict more damage upon their fragile understanding.

"Breck?" Melcon asked, stepping forward.

"They land in one week's time." She informed him, shaking herself from her musings. "Their target is Hadrian's Wall."

Melcon nodded and she felt his eyes on her back as she stepped forward and killed the protesting Saxon without a second thought. Breck removed her blade, wiped it on the man's clothes, and then pushed it back into her boot.

She had to get back to the Wall. And quickly.

An idea formed in her head as Melcon's men moved to dispose of the bodies, and she held a hand up to halt them. "Bring these two." She instructed. When the men shot her incredulous looks, she simply smirked at them. "I wish to leave a message for that bastard Cerdic."

* * *

**A/N: So obviously some minor (possibly major) things will be changed once I actually reach the movie portion of this story but just roll with it. Its my world you're living in now, amigos. **

**Anyway….show me some love!**


	22. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck did not get much sleep once they returned to the village. Not only was she still antsy and feeling an adrenaline rush from having killed the Saxons, but her mind was far too preoccupied for her to actually settle down and rest. Hours of tossing and turning later, Breck had finally quietly slipped out of Melcon's hut and made her way to the shore. After a bit of a trek down the sloping hill, she finally came up to the shore and took a deep breath, closing her eyes to really take in the salty scent of the water. Then she opened them again to admire the way the moonlight bounced off the rolling waves before taking a seat in the cool sand.

Her mind began to replay the things the Saxon had told her just as it had been since coming back to the village. Cerdic was _so close_. There would no longer be any need of her to imagine what it would be like to see him die on her sword; that would actually become a reality in only a matter of weeks. And he _would _die. Failure simply was not an option. It made her nervous to think about fighting him, but it was a different kind of nervous; a sort of excited-scared-determined nervousness that left her feeling jittery again. Breck didn't have need to search out her enemy anymore because her enemy was coming to her and she was going to make sure Cerdic knew what awaited him at Hadrian's Wall.

Thinking of the Wall immediately made her think about her friends. Even though Cerdic's impending arrival worked out quite well in concerns to her oath, it still irked her that the Sarmatians might become drawn in to the battle. The one thing she had been trying to avoid ever since befriending them was involving any of them in this fight because she wanted to see them return home, not fight against this vicious army. It wasn't lack of faith that made her think this way but rather the wish to see them finally leading the peaceful lives they yearned for. How cruel were the fates with the hand they now dealt the Sarmatian knights? If they were lucky, they would be discharged before he arrived. Unfortunately, that chance did not seem very likely.

Breck wasn't sure she could survive it if Cerdic were to take anyone else she cared about from her. All of the knights (even Lancelot) fell into this category but what really made her stomach twist violently was the thought of Arthur dying by the Saxon's hand. When the image of Arthur turned to that of a dead Tristan, it felt like someone had grabbed a hold of her heart and squeezed it with all their might and she had to close her eyes against the torrent of emotions that thought stirred within her. Breck shook her head to clear her mind of the horrid images, instead attempting to think of him in a more positive way.

By _God_ she missed that annoying and insufferable man.

Breck hadn't allowed herself to think of him much the entire trip but now that she'd complete what she had sought out to do, she let him invade her thoughts completely. This was the longest that they had been apart since meeting and it was a depressing notion. She wondered what he was doing right then and what he thought of her leaving the Wall. Breck found herself regretting that she had left him on slightly bad terms – she _had _punched him, after all, and their conversation had been scarce and mostly biting before she'd left. Breck was sure he would have something to say about all of this once she returned but this was one argument she would gladly have with him if it meant that she was back in his company again.

Now that she'd gotten a handle on herself again, it was time to stop being foolish and start being honest. She had come to terms with the fact that she cared for Tristan long ago, but now Breck had to admit to herself that the feelings ran much deeper then she had previously wanted to confess. At some point in the almost two and a half months that she had known Tristan, she had somehow begun to fall in love with him. For years she had been the type of woman that went after what she wanted and this journey to Alban had brought forth that same confidence again – she wanted Tristan to be her own and would have no other man if it were not him.

Breck was going to tell him how she felt, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

* * *

The sun had been up for about an hour by the time she heard the sound of approaching footsteps.

"No sleep for you this night?" Melcon asked, standing next to the spot she occupied.

Breck looked up at him and shielded her eyes from the sun. "No." She responded with a shake of her head before standing up to her fell height and brushing the sand off of her. "My mind is far too preoccupied."

"Understandable." Melcon said in agreement. Breck could tell when she spotted the dark bags under his eyes that he hadn't slept very well either. "Blacksmith came 'round searching for you." He informed her. "He wished me to tell you the armor is complete."

Breck nodded. "Thank you." She said before moving around him to go meet with the blacksmith. A huge sense of relief had come over her knowing that she was now free to go back to Hadrian's Wall. She could hardly wait to tell Arthur of everything that had happened and was so excited at the prospect of seeing Tristan again that she was about to jump out of her own skin.

"Breck?" Melcon called, catching her attention. She stopped and turned to face him, shielding her eyes against the sun again as he approached. "I know our friendship does not extend far, but you know this – your father would be proud to see the woman you are." He said, inclining his head towards her. "May lady luck be on your side in this war. And may your God protect you." Then he stuck a hand out towards her.

Breck smiled and shook his hand firmly, positive this was the friendliest thing that he'd ever said to her. But would her father be proud of her? Would he have wanted to see her travel the same path of death and destruction that he himself had walked for so long? She was not so sure but she had chosen this course and she would see her oath fulfilled. "My thanks, Melcon. And may God be with you as well."

The moment her armor was on a new feeling of confidence surged through her. Now not only did she wield the same blade her father had, but now it was _his _armor that protected her. Breck finally felt ready to face the man she had hated for so long and was almost eagerly anticipating his arrival now. She was quite certain she would have gone after him right then and there if she knew he were on the island and was almost glad that it wasn't a temptation she was faced with. It was time to return to Hadrian's Wall and regroup with Arthur, just like she had promised.

There were a few more niceties exchanged with the villagers but she was anxious to get on the road and before too long, she had her bag fastened to Lugh and the dead Saxons strung up behind her horse to drag along with them. The villagers looked obviously disturbed by her taking of the dead warriors but Breck ignored them and left with a wave over her shoulder.

"Be with these people, merciful God." Breck whispered once she was out of the pass and heading back towards Abernathy. "See them through this war."

By mid-afternoon she had cleared Abernathy and reached the crossroads. There had been a moment when she thought she might get into a spot of trouble in the Pict town, since the sight of the foreign Celt dragging two dead Saxons behind her horse had stirred up quite a bit of commotion, but she had quickly made up an excuse that she was going from town to town to warn everyone and using the dead Saxons as proof of how close the army was. Luckily, the townsfolk had believed her and let her pass through without anymore hassle. How she'd managed out of the foreign town of Abernathy in one piece was unbeknownst to her but she had quickened her pace anyway to clear the area before they changed their minds.

Upon reaching the juncture of all the main roads in Alban, Breck slid off of Lugh's back and eyed her surroundings. She had a plan for these two Saxons but the place she left them in had to be perfect. She briefly considered the few sturdy looking trees before deciding they were far too tall for her to hoist them up onto. Conditioning training or not, these men were heavy in death and far too much weight for her to handle alone. She briefly wondered how much easier (and perhaps better) this journey would have been with Tristan by her side but then shook her head and thought it best she was alone. Breck had done some gruesome deeds on this journey and they were not things she wished Tristan to witness her doing.

Glancing around some more, she spotted the thick wooden stump that served as a post to hold the road signs. At once, she nodded to herself in satisfaction then she went to cut the rope that she had used to drag the two Saxons behind her. By now they were scratched up fairly well and had begun to take on a putrid stench. Breck wanted to make quick work of this and grabbed one of the dead men by the ankles, dragging him over to the stump. It took a bit of effort to move the dead weight, even more so when she went back to collect the larger of the two Saxons, but once she had them sitting up against the stump she made quick work of securing them to the spot with the rope that she had used to drag them here.

After she was convinced the two dead men wouldn't be going anyway, she walked over to Lugh and fished out her quill and the last bit of parchment that she had. She scribbled down a quick note, grabbed one of the Woad arrows she'd snatched, and pinned the note to the stump up above the two men's heads. Then she took a step back to admire her handiwork and felt another jolt of excitement shoot through her at the reaction this would surely produce. There was no doubt in her mind that the Saxons would pass this way and see the two men. Once Cerdic had her note in his hands, he would know exactly what awaited him at Hadrian's Wall.

_To the Coward Cerdic –_

_I, Kenrick's daughter, await you at you at Hadrian's Wall. If you be man enough, come seek me out and prepare to pay for the crime you have committed.  
Victory does not yet belong to you._

It was short, to the point, and she knew it would get his blood boiling. That coupled with the dead warriors and the gashes she'd given them on their faces? If hr hadn't already planned to wage a war against Hadrian's Wall, her present to Cerdic most certainly would have started one. At least this way Arthur wouldn't be able to blame her for what was coming after them.

She turned and headed back to Lugh and couldn't help but admire the flexibility she had in her new armor. She had been able to move the Saxons without resistance from the metal and was glad it allowed her to move so freely, knowing it would serve her well in battle. The blacksmith had done a superb job. It was unfortunate that he would most likely end up dead at the hand of a Saxon because she was sure he would have profited greatly if he'd been in a different town.

Breck hauled herself back onto her horse and cast another long look towards the north. Then she turned Lugh and whistled for him to ride, eager to return to see this journey over and be back at the Wall.

* * *

_Of course it rains now_, Breck thought to herself crossly as she blinked against the offending raindrops. Almost nine days worth of travel for this journey and it rains _now_, as she's making her way carefully through the dense forest the Woads resided in and so close to being back at Hadrian's Wall that she could almost feel the heat from her fireplace on her skin. Breck wanted to put her hood on but was afraid the Woad guards would not recognize her and kill her with their arrows. Not wanting to tempt the fates into tormenting her anymore then they already did, she merely squinted against the watery weather and tried to keep an eye out for any sing of the strange blue people.

She was tired, exhausted even, but she refused to stop and make camp. The Wall could only be another five or six hours away and she was going to get there tonight, even if she had to fight her way through the rain to do so. And where the bloody hell was Merlin? She glanced around some more, half expecting Merlin to appear out of thin air, and frowned when she did not spot any of the Woads anywhere near her. Why, oh _why _did she have to reach the forest when a storm decided to come in? The Woads were probably under shelter just then and it was beginning to feel more likely that she may not encounter them at all.

"Merlin!" She finally called out. It was no use; no one would be able to hear her over the rain. Breck did not wish to leave the forest before she could tell Merlin what she had learned of but if the man didn't show his face soon, she was going to leave him to his own fate.

Breck sighed and urged Lugh forward again, pulling a face when he shook his head and nearly slapped her across the face with his drenched mane. He went trotting through a large puddle of mud and she cringed, shaking her head. He would be an absolute nightmare to clean but that was not something that she would not be doing tonight. All she wanted was to be in dry clothes again and as soon as he was in his stall tonight, she was going to curl up on her lumpy, old bed to get some sleep.

An hour later, when the rain began to let up a bit, Breck finally spotted a group of Woads to her right. Though Merlin had sworn she would pass safely Breck remembered the way the others had argued with him; she didn't know if these Woads were trustworthy and pulled Lugh to a stop, watching them steadily as they made their way to the path she was on. Lugh was obviously tense in their presence and snorted as they came closer to her. Once they were directly in front of her they said nothing – they only studied her for a moment and then motioned for her to follow them.

Breck held her breath as the Woads led her on a complicated path through the trees and kept her eyes open in case this ended up being an ambush of some sort. She knew first hand how barbaric the Woads could be and began to somewhat regret having made the pact with Merlin, unsure now if they would even let her out of the woods alive after she turned over her information. There was no telling what the Woads might do and she certainly hoped that she had not made a mistake by trusting them. At that thought she straightened up, resting a hand on her blade just in case she needed to use it.

A half hour later they came up to what appeared to be where the Woads made camp. She was not surprised to see a number of guards loitering about as she approached but it did surprise her just how many Woad children were in the camp. Their mothers shooed them away protectively, shooting her untrusting looks, but this was not something that Breck was unaccustomed to. Instead she began searching the crowd for Merlin, dismounting from her horse but keeping a protective hold on his reigns.

"Stay." One of the Woads said before running off to fetch Merlin (she assumed, anyway).

Luckily she did not have to await his return for too long; only a few minutes later she spotted him making his way through the crowd again, this time with Merlin and a number of elders in tow. The drizzle of rain overhead did not appear to be bothering the Woads at all and she finally pulled her hood up to protect her head from the cold drops, suppressing a shiver as Merlin approached. By God, she just wanted to _be in_ _her bed_. This was going to be a quick meeting; she would see to that.

"The Celt, Breck." Merlin said when he approached.

"Merlin, a pleasure." She responded with a nod.

"Do you require sustenance?" He offered, surprising her immensely. Weren't these the same savages that had killed a number of Arthur's men? Didn't these people cause the wound on Tristan that she herself had stitched up? And here they were offering her food and drink – it was rather baffling.

"No but my thanks for your kind offer." Breck said, keeping the conversation pleasant. "I shall not linger long – the prospect of home is far too welcoming to ignore." She informed him. "I come bearing news, as promised."

"Continue." Merlin encouraged.

The crowd around them had grown considerably in their curiosity and she eyed them before speaking. "The Saxons plan an attack on Hadrian's Wall. They shall land on the island in a few short days." She said bluntly, making a murmur run through the crowd as the Woads began discussing the news at once. "Bands of Picts stay in attempt to ward them off, but I fear they shall not prevail. The Saxons will be upon you in a matter of weeks."

The elders were arguing amongst themselves and Merlin spoke sharply to one of them before he turned an almost suspicious gaze on her. "How came you to know this?" He questioned.

"I myself tortured the information from a Saxon scout." Breck retorted, glaring at him for good measure and leaving no room for doubt with the tone of her statement. Merlin nodded his acceptance of her words. Breck relaxed and nodded before bringing up her next topic. "I wish to propose an idea you." She said while she still had hit attention.

Merlin's interest had been piqued again and he nodded with a concentrated look on his face. "I listen."

"Should the Woads arrive before Artorius and the Sarmatians are released," a grumble went through the crowd at hearing of the knights, "they alone cannot protect the Wall. In the other respect, _you_ cannot face an entire army and hope to prevail without the military training of the cavalry." Breck explained quickly. "What thinks you to a truce with Arthur Castus and fighting along side as allies?"

Merlin narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, obviously a bit disconcerted by the prospect of forming an alliance to the Roman general. "Arthur Castus is an enemy to my people." He said firmly, his grip on the staff in his right hand visibly tightening.

"Is _he _the enemy?" Breck questioned. "Or is Rome?" Merlin had nothing to say in response to her question but the glare he fixed on her said her attitude would not get her much further with this man. Immediately she softened her expression. "Think on it." She said, changing her tactics. "That is my only request of you."

Merlin considered her for a long moment before slowly nodding. "I shall consider your notion of truce." He finally said slowly. The incredulous looks of his comrades did not go unnoticed to her but she smiled at him thankfully regardless. It would take a lot to get both Merlin and Arthur to move past their differences and work together, but an alliance would be their best hope against the Saxons.

"My thanks." She said before turning back to Lugh and hauling herself up onto his back. "The secret of your home lies safe with me." She informed him, thinking it would not hurt her case to try and gain even more of his trust. "No one shall learn of its location."

Merlin nodded again before pointing to two Woads that stood near an opening in the trees. "My men shall show you to the edge of the forest." He told her before turning on his heel and leaving without another word.

A few of the other elders glared at her for a long moment before following after Merlin, yapping away at each other in the language she did not understand until she could no longer see them. The chance that Merlin would actually side with Arthur seemed highly unlikely, but at least Breck had planted the idea in his head and as soon as she was back at the Wall she would corner Arthur about the same subject. Only time would tell if the men were able to reach an understanding and since the Saxons were practically on their doorstep, Breck hoped that it would happen sooner rather then later.

"This way." One of the Woads called to her, gaining her attention again.

Breck scanned the crowd of Woads around her one more time and was just beginning to head towards them when she heard a familiar screech overhead. Everyone looked up and seemingly spotted hawk circling the tops of the trees at the same time. A smile reached her face at seeing the familiar bird but some of the Woads around her scowled and began to lift their bows, arrows notched for a shot at the creature.

"Stop." She said firmly, making them pause. Breck glanced upwards again and wondered why the bird was on the loose when the weather had been so rotten. Breck considered the possibility that the hawk was looking for _her _then whistled for the bird the same way she'd heard Tristan do before. To the Woads' and _her _surprise, a moment later the hawk was careening down towards her and she extended her arm to accept it once it was close enough.

The Woads eyed her suspiciously but she only spared them a glance before reaching a finger out to gently pet the bird. The hawk allowed the attention but then squawked at her impatiently when she did nothing further. "Well, what is it you desire from me?" Breck asked in the animal in exasperation. When the bird nipped at her finger Breck hissed and put the digit in her mouth. "He bid you attack me, aye?" She accused, glaring at Tristan's pet. "A hint of what awaits me?"

The bird took off from her arm and began circling a few feet above her head. Breck watched it for a long moment, mindful of the Woads that were staring at her with interest, and then reached for her dagger to cleanly slice off a curly lock of her red hair. The bird took it quickly when she extended the hair to the hawk as an offering.

"Inform him I shall return shortly." Breck said even though she wasn't completely sure how Tristan would be able to tell if the bird brought good or bad news.

Once the bird was gone, with her lock of hair in its beak, Breck joined the two Woads that watched her with great interest. She did not receive as uncomfortable of a feeling from them as she had from the Woads that previously led her and relaxed on Lugh's back as they began to lead her through the trees.

The rain lessened again as they travelled in silence until finally coming to a halt all together and she pushed her sopping wet hood off her head to shake the water out of her hair. Her clothes were more then drenched and she pulled at them uncomfortably before glancing up at the sky that peaked through the tops of the trees, attempting to ascertain what time it might be. It had been hard to tell previously because of how dark the storm clouds had made the sky appear but now she would guess by the position of the moon that it was mid evening. Once she was clear of the trees that it would only be a few more hours to the Wall and she fidgeted on her seat in anticipation, excited by the prospect both of being back with her friends and of seeing Tristan again.

* * *

"You there! Halt!"

The shouting of the guard was all too reminiscent of the last time that Breck had ridden up to the gate from the north and she immediately showed him her hands to prove that she held no weapons in them at the moment. "I come with no ill will. I am merely returning home." She called to him, hoping he could see who she was in the scant light of the night.

"Are you the lady Breck?" The guard asked, squinting at her.

"Aye." She confirmed, though she wasn't so convinced of the 'lady' aspect of that question.

The guard nodded to someone she could not see and then the sound of the gate being opened reached her ears. She sighed in relief and waited patiently for the large doors to open, her mind already filled with images of the bed and dry clothes that awaited her return in her quarters. "Arthur demands you seek him out immediately upon your arrival." The guard informed her.

"Noted." She informed him, though there was _no _wayshe was going to seek out Arthur right then. The last time she had approached Arthur about a sensitive subject when he was not wholly awake, Breck had received the lecture of a lifetime. The last thing she wanted to do right then was rouse her friend in the middle of the night and awaken the monstrous wrath that surely awaited her.

As soon as Lugh was trotting through the gates, Breck sagged with relief. The familiar sights of the town were most welcome but she was relieved to see that the streets were mostly deserted. Though she could hear quite a bit of noise coming from the tavern even in this late hour, it appeared most of the citizens had turned in for the night. Breck was happy to return to such a quiet scene, not really wanting to deal with a crowd in her exhausted state. Without further hesitation, she led Lugh back in the direction of the stables and patted his neck to congratulate him on completing the journey. It seemed strange for a moment to see the barn door was already open once she arrived, but the warm glow of the torches in the stable were far too welcoming to rouse her suspicion and she was honestly too tired to care that the building had been left unlocked and unattended.

Breck ducked her head to clear the doorway as they trotted into the stabled and then sighed contentedly. "Home at last." She said soothingly to Lugh before swinging herself down onto her own two feet tiredly.

Lugh looked as exhausted as she felt and she immediately untied her bag from his saddle, dropped it onto the floor, and then led him into his stall before making quick work of his saddle. As soon as he was free of it, Lugh was lying down and snorting in what could only be contentment. Breck grinned and shook her head before leaving him in his stall to rest. Tomorrow she would bathe him and then he would be given a long break and tons of treats as a reward for his efforts the past two weeks.

Breck was just stepping in the direction of the saddle-racks when she finally spotted him. She jumped in surprise and nearly dropped the saddle in her hands, her heart thudding hard from the sudden fright. Tristan had been standing wordlessly in front of the benches that were next to the saddle-racks and, as she looked over his handsome features for the first time in two weeks, her heart began thudding for an entirely new reason. If Breck had thought she'd missed him before, now she realized just how much she _really_ had – her eyes greedily took in the sight of him in his casual attire, his messy braids, his beard that was steadily getting thicker due to lack of grooming…

"You frightened me." Breck finally told him with a small laugh, not opposed in the slightest to his sudden appearance. She had not clue why he was in the stables so late at night but noticed that his clothes looked to be a bit damp and wondered if he'd been out on a scouting mission for Arthur. Or maybe, she thought with excitement, he'd gone searching for her after his bird had returned with her hair in its beak? The thought brought a smile to her face.

Tristan narrowed his eyes at her and she pursed her lips, her smile immediately falling from her lips. She'd assumed he'd be angry, but maybe he was angrier with her then she thought he would be. "_I _frightened _you_?" He asked slowly.

Oh yes. Tristan was definitely angry with her. "You _are _lurking in the shadows." She reminded him teasingly to try and lighten the tension that suddenly filled the room, gesturing to the spot where he stood.

Tristan eyed her for a moment before crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow at her. "And _you _are the one who thought it to be wise to go trekking across Woad territory alone." He retorted.

"Oh…that…" She said with a shrug. He could be angry all he wanted; she was too happy to be with him again to really be affected by it. Had he gotten more handsome since she had taken her leave? Breck was convinced he had.

"Are you insane, woman?" Tristan asked incredulously, finally letting her see how irritated he was with her. "First you leave to an unknown place without telling anyone and with hardly any protection, then you act as though you did _not _risk your life?" He shook his head and glowered at her. "What if the Woads had captured you?" He ranted. "Do you realize what would have become of you then?"

"Have you no faith in my skill?" She asked jokingly, their gazes holding the entire time she made her way over to the saddle rack. Even his anger was attractive now and she found that she quite liked the fierceness behind his gaze just then. "You should feel proud – I handled the Woads quite well."

"You wish me to be proud of your recklessness?" He asked, looking at her with a quirked eyebrow.

Breck shrugged at him and nodded as she finally fixed her saddle to the rack and then faced him, putting her hands on her hips. Her eyes looked their fill of his handsome, albeit agitated, face again and she tilted her head as he shook his head in disbelief. It was almost amusing how irritated he looked right then. "You _are _angry with me…" She mused with a smile trying hard to play on her lips.

"Obviously." He growled. "Your ignorance has caused much upset to the men and to Arthur. The concern for your safety has not ceased since your departure. Did you not stop for one moment to think what your actions may do to the men?" He asked her, stepping closer so he could point in her face menacingly. "And without any word at all? _Anything _could have become of you."

Breck was beginning to wonder if he was angry because of the effect her leaving had on the men or the effect it had on _him_. It had been quite a while since she'd seen him worked up like this but it was almost endearing because she knew it was out of concern for her. Now that she no longer had doubts about the way she felt about him, she found herself yearning to feel his lips on her again. His closeness was making a pleasant warmth spread throughout her body but in her exhausted state, she honestly was beginning to tire of the lecture he was giving her. So when he opened his mouth to continue yelling at her, Breck did the only thing she could think of that would both appease her _and _shut him up.

She closed the gap between them to place her hands on either side of his neck and then pulled him down to her height so she could kiss him. Though Tristan was obviously too stunned to respond to the kiss, he did not push her away and she could have sworn she felt the pressure of his hand on her waist. The feel of his beard against her face and the warmth of his lips were as intoxicating as it had been the first time and she sighed against his lips before pulling far enough away to be able to look into his eyes. There was a stunned glint in his eyes but she could also see something else lurking in the depths of his amber-flakes orbs.

"Tristan, I am tired and hungry and drenched to my very bones – shout at me on the morrow." She said gently.

He seemed too in shock to respond so she flashed him a smile and then moved away from him to collect her bag. As much as she wanted to stay with Tristan, she could practically hear her bed calling her name. Her lips tingled excitedly at having kissed him again but she reigned in her urge to repeat the action and headed for the door. She could feel that Tristan was watching her but he did not move to stop her.

Breck stopped at the door and glanced at him over her shoulder, not missing the intent way that he was watching her. "And Tristan?" She called to him gently. "I missed you." She could have sworn she saw him gulp but merely smirked and nodded her head at him. "Good night."

Then she left the stables and headed for her quarters to get a good night of rest in her very own bed.

* * *

**A/N: Breck is getting her groove on now. Think Tristan can handle it?**

**Thank you to all my loyal followers, welcome to all my new ones, and don't be shy to all my silent ones! Your support means the world to me and if it weren't for you guys, this story would be nothing!**

**Oh and I just went to the store to pick up a few things and decided to try a new type of wine. The first bottle I picked up was talking about the Dark Ages, knights, and Romans. Then I came home and my computer, which I usually leave asleep while I'm gone, had rebooted itself and was up and running. Signs I should spend the duration of tonight writing? I think yes.**


	23. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

_POUND POUND POUND!_

Breck sat upright in her bed with startled eyes, awoken suddenly because of the loud banging on her door. She blinked sleepily, eyeing her surroundings in confusion, and it had just barely registered that her door had been slammed open before a familiar person was yanking her out of bed, off of her feet, and into a monstrous hug. Her eyes bugged as the wind rushed out of her chest in his tight embrace but she clung to him regardless, half out of fear he'd drop her in his excitement.

"Breck!" Galahad said enthusiastically, swinging her around like a ragdoll in his arms. "Jols said…horse…you…" He sputtered out, too excited to make coherent sentences for a moment until he finally said, "I am _elated _to see you!"

"Galahad." She wheezed out, trying to wiggle out of his arms to breathe again. When he only squeezed her tighter, she swatted at his shoulder to get his attention. "Galahad!"

He set her back on her feet so abruptly that she had to steady herself on his shoulder. His happy expression melted into that of a far more irritated one and he wagged a finger in her face as she attempted to catch her breath again. "What did you think of, leaving in such a manner? And to go _north_, no less?" He reprimanded.

"Forgive me for the manner of my departure." Breck finally said now that she was fully functional and breathing normally again. "If there is one occurrence I regret this past fortnight, it is that I left without saying goodbye." She said guiltily, pleading him with her eyes to forgive her.

Galahad rolled his eyes and shook his head, though she could see the tension ebbing its way out of his shoulders. "If you were a man, I would hit you." He threatened. "Have you any idea the amount of concern I have felt? The road you chose was highly dangerous. What motivated your journey and _why _did you feel the need to go headlong into Woad territory?"

Breck sighed and patted his shoulder. She knew that the men would be demanding explanations from her and that she'd have to answer questions such as these at some point, but she was not sure she wanted to tell them of the Saxons just yet. They were _so _close to obtaining their freedom; the last thing she wanted was to dampen their spirits with her news. "Galahad, I simply needed to find myself again." She explained. When he gave her a confused look, she shook her head. "Do not question my reasoning. Just know it needed to be done." Then Breck glanced down at the shift she was wearing and felt her cheeks turn pink at the lack of coverage the flimsy material provided.

Galahad seemed to have noticed how scantly dress she was as well and his cheeks flushed beet red before he turned his back on her. "Forgive me. I did not see much, er – anything. I saw nothing." He corrected quickly.

Breck moved over to the fireplace to grab the clothes she'd hung to dry the night before and laughed at the awkward situation. "There is nothing to forgive." She said as she changed quickly. She tossed the shift at his head with a smirk, making him splutter as he plucked it off with two fingers, and then quickly began to dress. "How angry will Arthur be with me?" She asked as she started pulling her regular clothes on.

"You have not seen him yet?" Galahad asked with his back still turned to her, toying with the shift he now held in his hands.

"Not as of yet." Breck answered with a shake of her head.

"Quite angry, then." He said with a chuckle. "I imagine he might want to kill you now."

"It is as I feared." Breck responded dramatically with a short laugh before standing to finish the ties on her trousers. "I am decent." She informed him so he could turn around. "And since I have been so _enthusiastically_ awoken," she stared pointedly, making him smirk as he faced her again, "I shall go to him now. He will want to know I have returned."

They both looked up as a new figure came waltzing into her room. "_What _is the _commotion_ – bloody hell. Do mine eyes deceive me?" Lancelot asked incredulously as his eyes landed on her. He'd obviously just been woken up by her and Galahad's reunion, since his hair and clothes were in disarray, but the glare had melted from his face and he began to grin at her. "The lady has at last returned?"

"_I _have, but to what lady do you refer?" Breck asked teasingly.

Lancelot laughed and came to hug her, a move she gladly accepted. When he stepped back his eyes trailed over her appraisingly. "New blood on your clothing, I see. An eventful journey?"

"Eventful enough." Breck agreed with a nod before snatching her boots up and walking back to her bed to pull them on.

"Will you join us for dinner this afternoon?" Galahad asked her hopefully.

"That shall depend on whether or not Arthur allows me to live." Breck said with a wink in his direction.

Lancelot was steadily gazing at the shift in Galahad's hands, his eyebrows raising higher by the second, and as soon as Galahad realized he still had Breck's nightgown in his hands he quickly tossed the garment away as though it were on fire. Lancelot smirked and crossed his arms, tsking at him scornfully. "Foul play?" He asked as wide, sarcastic grin stretched across his face.

"No." Galahad said quickly. "She…changed." He excused lamely. Lancelot's brow only rose further. "I did not watch!" The younger knight corrected loudly before heaving and glaring at his friend for a long moment. "Do _not _tell Tristan of this." He said firmly, wagging a finger in his face

Lancelot scoffed and looked at him incredulously, waving Galahad's hand away. "You believe I wish death upon you? I am insulted."

Breck, who had been watching the exchange with a look of confusion, finally waved her hands to gain their attention. "Pardon – what is this you speak of?" She asked curiously.

"Nothing." Both men said at once.

She didn't believe them for a second. If their quick response hadn't roused her suspicions, the far-too-innocent-to-be-legitimate expressions on their faces surely would have. Lancelot and Galahad knew something that she did not and she wanted to know what it was. "Lancelot…Galahad…" She said slowly, glaring between the both of them. When they shared an unsure look, she heaved and crossed her arms. "What is the secret you keep?" She asked sternly.

"None you might not already know." Galahad said vaguely. Breck opened her mouth to question him further but he cut her off before she could speak. "Arthur will wish to see you, correct?" He asked quickly.

Breck sized him up for a moment and turned her disapproving look on Lancelot, but he held his hand up in defense with pursed his lips and nodded in agreement to Galahad's question. It was obvious neither man wanted to give up their information and she did not have time to stand there and argue with them about it. "Do not believe for one moment I shall forget this conversation." She said in warning before walking towards her door. "I _will _find out your secret."

"Of course you will." Lancelot said sarcastically as she shooed them out of her room. "Have you never heard that good things come to those who wait?" He questioned as she made sure her door was shut.

"Have _you _never heard that secrets do _not _gain you friends?" She retorted.

"We are friends?" Lancelot asked dramatically as though their friendship was news to him.

Breck couldn't help but laugh and swatted at his shoulder. "Imbecile."

"You love me." He accused before grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to it like he always did. "I take my leave now – we shall reconvene later, I am sure of it." Lancelot said before waving at her and Galahad and heading back to his quarters.

Galahad dropped an arm over her shoulders once it was just the two of them and then led her in the direction of Arthur's quarters. The streets were completely opposite of how they had been the previous night; instead of the streets being deserted and empty in the previously rainy weather, now the streets were bustling and busy with townsfolk in the bright sunlight that had dawned with the morning. She and Galahad were earning some strange looks with their closeness but most everyone that spotted her waved in greeting or called out welcoming words. At least everyone in town was just as surprised to see her as Arthur would be – the last thing she wanted was for everyone to know she had returned _before _her friend and further fuel the wrath that awaited her.

"How fares Gawain?" She asked curiously.

Galahad shrugged against her and gave her a knowing look. "He placed the blame of your departure on himself, as any may have guessed he would." He informed her. "But know that he harbors no ill feelings towards you." He added matter-of-factly.

Breck knew how close Galahad and Gawain were and expected the golden-haired Sarmatian would have told him about her rejection. "He spoke to you, then?"

"Yes." Galahad confirmed. "And do not fret – Gawain is a grown man. He is capable of handling rejection."

Breck sighed and nodded. "I suppose that should comfort me." She mused. A moment later they reached the building that held Arthur's chambers and she frowned up at it before shooting Galahad a pleading look. "Must I face him?" She asked helplessly.

Galahad smirked and pulled his arm away from her, gently nudging her toward the door. "Unfortunately." He answered with a nod. "I would offer my sympathies, but this is of your own doing." Breck only grumbled at him in response, making him laugh. "And Breck?" He called as she opened the door, making her pause. "Prepare yourself - we celebrate your return tonight." He said promisingly, looking almost gleeful.

The prospect of celebrating with her friends was an exciting one, but she looked at him skeptically anyway with a heave, feeling wary of the impending meeting with her life-long friend. "If I survive this upcoming meeting, I shall be more then happy to oblige my company." She said before waving at him and stepping through the door to go and find Arthur.

* * *

Breck finally located Arthur in his council room and when she stepped through the doors, he looked at her as though he were gazing upon a ghost. He stopped with a bite of food halfway between his plate and his mouth, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. Breck only grinned, happy to see her friend again, and held her arms out as though presenting herself to him for evaluation. "Good morrow, friend." She said brightly in hopes that it would make the upcoming lecture less harsh. "I have returned."

Arthur set his eating utensil down on the table and then stood from his seat, the chair scraping loudly on the floor in his haste to stand. In five long strides, he was around the table and pulling her into a tight hug. Breck felt a bit relieved that he _hadn't _strangled her and wrapped her arms around his neck to hug him in return. After a couple of moments he pulled back and placed his hands on her shoulders, a relieved but stern expression on his face as he held her at arms length.

"If you _ever _do such a thing again," he said firmly, the anger flashing in his eyes, "I shall lock you in a cell and dispose of the key. Understood?" Breck nodded quickly and watched as he took a breath to calm himself down. "If I did not care for you so greatly, I swear you would be dead where you stand." He said before removing his hands from her shoulders and crossing his arms. "To where did your travels take you?"

"North to the Kingdom of Alban – it is the country in which my contact resides. I wished to learn more on the Saxons in person." She informed him. "It was tenacious of me, I know this well, but it needed to be done." She added quickly as an excuse when he frowned in disapproval.

Arthur watched her for a long moment before sighing heavily and rubbing his palm against his forehead in agitation. "It _needed_ to be done?" He asked to verify her words. Breck only nodded and he pursed his lips. "And I trust your mission was at least successful?"

"Aye." She confirmed a bit more brightly. "I would be more then obliged to enlighten you if you should find the kindness in your heart to feed me." She bargained with a small smile, trying to ease his anger a bit. It was obvious that Arthur was positively itching to yell at her and he narrowed his eyes before nodding and motioning her into the seat next to his at the round table. "My thanks, Arthur."

He 'hmph'ed at her in response but went to fetch her food regardless. There was a small table on the far side of the wall and Arthur went to fill a plate up for her there, casting her glances over his shoulder every now and again with a grumpy expression. He clearly had a few choice things he wanted to say to her but appeared to be attempting to hold his tongue. Breck didn't say a word against him, not wanting to prompt the bout off yelling she was sure would come at any moment.

"I shall have you know that I prepared an entire lecture for you." He shot at her once he'd filled the plate and was brining it over to her. He stopped next to her and placed the plate on the table in front of her. "Be glad that my happiness at seeing you alive and well outweighs by desire to strangle you."

Breck grinned as he moved to sit in the chair next to her and patted his hand briefly when she felt him squeeze her shoulder affectionately. Arthur just gave her a conceding look and once he had settled in again, he resumed eating his breakfast. She had gotten a few bites down, she relaxed in her seat and turned her gaze on him. "I encountered Merlin." She said as a beginning to the tale of her journey.

Arthur immediately looked at her in alarm. "And you lived to tell the tale?" He asked in disbelief. "How might you have achieved this?"

"Such faith you have in me." She said sarcastically. "Merlin and I…reached an understanding." Breck went on to continue. "He offered me free passage in return for information on the Saxons."

Arthur was looking at her as though she had three heads now and wiped his mouth with his napkin, his eyes turning away from her as he processed her words. She knew all too well how Arthur felt about Merlin. He had told her stories of some of the events that had transpired between the knights and the Woads and the animosity between the groups ran fairly deep. She had already known that it would take a lot of convincing to get Merlin to side with Arthur, but it was be an even _harder _task to get Arthurto side with the man he loathed so much. Breck would have to put forth her best effort to talk him into even considering it, let alone trying to get him to agree.

"An understanding…" Arthur finally repeated slowly, looking at her again. "You are fortunate he did not order you killed. I was previously unaware of his ability to show such mercy." He added bitingly.

"Aye, well, I was required to kill five of his guards before he deemed me worthy of approaching." She informed him. "Merlin is the least of our concerns at this moment, I fear." Breck said, stuffing another large bite of her breakfast into her mouth. Arthur looked to her expectantly and waited for her to continue, his interest and concern piqued. "I wish the information I am about to reveal to be kept between us until further notice." She instructed him once she had finished her bite.

"This depends on the nature of the subject." Arthur responded.

Breck nodded and picked up his wine goblet to take a drink of it. "The Saxons shall be on the island in a matter of days." She revealed, watching as his brow furrowed at the news. "Their objective is Hadrian's Wall."

Arthur leaned back in his seat and nodded solemnly, a heavy breath escaping his lungs. The lines of his face, which he had prematurely obtained with the stresses of his life, seemed deeper as he frowned at hearing this news. It was obvious to Breck that it was a very disconcerting thing for him to hear. "How did you come to know this?" He asked.

"My own ears heard the news from the mouth of a Saxon." Breck assured him. "And the proof of his honesty lay in the nearly deserted lands to the north." She continued. "Picts are fleeing, Arthur. The Saxons will be here within a matter of weeks – a month at the very most. There shall not be much standing between us and the Saxons."

"A month…" Arthur mused with a scoff. "When the men's duty to Rome will be completed…"

"Aye." Breck said regretfully. "I do not want them at the mercy of the Saxons, I have told you this before. If luck permits, the Sarmatians may have taken their leave before the Saxons arrive and they will never have to involve themselves in this war. The men already know an invasion is a _possibility_, but not that had now become final. If they do not need to know about their plan, I wish to keep it our secret for now."

"There are no secrets amongst us." Arthur reminded her. "However," he continued with a shake of his head, "if _our_ secret may ward off any unnecessary distress, I shall keep it to myself until I believe it a requirement to inform them." Arthur agreed. He glanced up at the ceiling for a moment and heaved, then reached for his wine goblet to take a large gulp. "Fifteen years of servitude and then this? _Now_, when they are so close to freedom?"

"God's workings are sometimes cruel." Breck responded. "You and I know this better then others."

He nodded to her statement but she could tell he was distracted again. Breck had estimated a month for the Saxon invasion, but she knew better that it would not take as long as that. Her wishful thinking wanted her to believe that the Sarmatians would be released before the foreigners arrived but she, and she suspected Arthur as well, understood this would probably not happen. Then what? It would only be her, Arthur, and the five remaining Sarmatians that stood guard at the Wall? Her top priority was Cerdic but she had grown to cherish her home at Hadrian's Wall – she wanted to protect these lands, as well. This made her thoughts turn to the Woads and she eyed Arthur for a long moment before reaching over to rest a hand on top of his.

"Arthur…" She said slowly, gaining his attention. "You must consider an alliance with the Woads."

Arthur scowled immediately and yanked his hand from underneath hers. "I will do no such thing." He said sharply.

"Do not let your pride – " She began to say.

"My pride? My _pride_?" Arthur snapped, slamming his hand on the table and making her jump. She had obviously misjudged his reason for declining. "You know nothing of my reason for distrusting the Woads."

"Inform me then." Breck shot back at him stubbornly. "Arthur, if there be no valid reason to – "

"Those people murdered my mother!" Arthur growled.

Breck immediately snapped her mouth closed. She had known that Arthur disliked the Woads but she had never understood why. It was a known fact that Arthur's mother had passed away long ago but she had not known the cause of her death. Knowing now that it was because of the Woads, she understood perfectly well why he detested the foreign people so greatly. The dilemma now was that they needed the Woads to fight against the Saxons, but also that Breck was all too familiar with the revenge that Arthur had to be wishing for.

"They attacked our village." Arthur continued on in explanation. "My mother was trapped in a burning building and died before my very eyes."

"I am sorry, Arthur. I did not know." She said, resting a hand on his again. This time he did not pull away from her.

Arthur collected himself slowly and then nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "An alliance with the Woads is impossible." He resolved firmly. "We must draw another plan."

Breck was in a tough spot; she knew the Woads would be essential allies but how could she ask him to side with the man responsible for his mother's death? Breck had lost both of her parents because of the malice of another and knew better then anyone the pain that came with such a loss. Her asking Arthur to side with Merlin would have been the same as him asking Breck to side with Cerdic. Yet, as she thought of the two villains of her and Arthur's past, she could not help but consider the fact that the Woads were _not _the Saxons. Where Cerdic was barbaric and a monster, Merlin had spared her and was someone she knew could be reasoned with. Breck decided then that she would go to speak with Merlin again to learn of the entire story surrounding the death of Arthur's mother. Only after then would she consider approaching her friend with this topic again.

Arthur turned his hand under hers to lock her hand in a tight hold, catching her attention. "Forgive me for my outburst." He said apologetically. "If nothing else, I am glad you have returned." He continued, offering a small smile.

"You need not ask for forgiveness." Breck assured him. "And I am _very_ glad to be home."

"Home?" He asked, surprised by her choice of words.

"Aye, home." She confirmed with a roll of her eyes. "Do not appear so taken aback." She shot at him sarcastically.

Arthur regarded her for a moment and then smiled, looking happier in that moment then he had the entire time she'd been in the room with him. "You seem content." He said after studying her for a moment. "You have seen Tristan?"

Breck wasn't completely sure why he was asking, but she couldn't help the small smile that stretched across her lips at the mention of Tristan. "Aye." She said, eyeing him a bit uncertainly. "And I _am_ content." She informed him.

Arthur smirked. "He cares for you." He said, squeezing her hand one last time before releasing her and pushing himself up from his seat. Breck, in turn, was gazing at him in surprise, not having expected him to say that. How did _he _know? "I assume this night holds plans for us and the men?" Arthur continued, changing the subject without batting an eye.

"Aye." She said slowly as he made his way for the door, eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. Had he been talking to Tristan about thing he shouldn't have been? "Galahad wishes to celebrate in the tavern."

"I shall gladly attend." Arthur informed her. "Until then, I wish to write to Rome and discover what they may have learned of the Saxons." He explained. "Stay and finish your meal, I shall meet you in the tavern later."

"Arthur." She called to him quickly when he was about to open the door. He stopped and looked back at her, patiently waiting for her question. "How came you to know of Tristan's feelings?" She questioned curiously.

Arthur smirked at once. "He told me so himself." He revealed, making her heart pound hard in her chest.

Tristan had _told _Arthur? By God, she was going to die from heart failure. Or excitement. Or both.

"I shall see you tonight." Arthur said finally, nodding in her direction before disappearing through the door and leaving Breck with a wide grin on her face.

* * *

**A/N: I went back and forth about this chapter FOREVER and finally decided to put the celebration in the next one. Otherwise this thing would be a million pages long! So this is kind of one of those lame fillers. It happens!**

**Anyway…I want to pocket-size Galahad and keep him forever. What a cutie patootie. Until, you know, he starts killing people and stuff. Then he's just awesome…**


	24. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur…though I wish I owned Mads Mikkelsen.**

* * *

After her conversation with Arthur, Breck finished her breakfast and then immediately went to attend to Lugh. Jols and even the shy Devran were both pleased to see her and the three of them ended up chatting the afternoon away, Jols filling her in on the goings on she'd missed in her absence while Breck recounted some of the more exciting tales of her journey. It was tricky not to reveal too much information to them but she was eventually saved when Galahad came and snatched her away from her horse, claiming she had kept her distance for quite long enough and that it was time to celebrate with her friends.

Being back at Hadrian's Wall made her feel like an enormous weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. The familiar sights of the happy, healthy children running through town made her smile, it was nice to receive friendly waves and words of greeting as she made her way back to her quarters to change, and even the usual glares that she received from the wenches were welcome. It was a comfort to be back within the borders of the Wall and with the familiar faces of her friends. And even though it was impossible to forget that the Saxons would be on their doorstep soon enough, tonight Breck would allow herself to momentarily forget them and relish in the peacefulness of the town while she still could.

It was strange to be in a dress again and she frowned down at the garment as she braided her increasingly long hair into a quick plait. The once clingy dress now hung loose on her hips and waist, forcing her to tie a long leather strap around her waist to make it fit better. She hadn't realized until then how much weight she'd lost on her journey and knew she would need to try to gain it back quickly. Cerdic had enough of a size advantage on her to begin with without her being skinny as a stick.

"Breck?" Galahad asked through her door, pounding on it loudly to catch her attention.

"Enter." She called, turning away from her mirror and striding over to her trunk to search for the tankard of wine she'd had stored in the for over a month now.

Galahad poked his head in and then looked at her impatiently. "Hurry along of the men will be drunk before we arrive."

"Settle..." She said with a roll of her eyes, pulling out the wine and then closing her trunk. "I am ready."

"What be that for?" He asked curiously, eyeing the wine in her hands as they walked out into the street.

"Gawain." She answered. "Tis a peace offering."

Even though Galahad had informed her that Gawain was not angry with her, she still felt there were some matters that needed to be settled. She didn't want anything to be awkward between them and knew that amends needed to be made before they could continue on like normal. And knowing of the man's affinity for alcohol, the wine seemed like the perfect way to start smoothing things over between them.

Galahad nodded his approval and smiled at her, placing a hand on her back to lead her along until they reached the tavern. The moment that they walked through a door, a blur of red hair and skirts came rushing at Breck and she barely had time to steel herself against the massive hug coming for her. In an instant she was wrapped up in the tight, squeezing arms of Vanora and patting the woman's back and she cried into her shoulder.

"Vanora, are you well?" Breck asked in mild concern, shooting a look at Galahad over the woman's shoulder. Galahad only shrugged at her, looking clueless. "Why do you cry? You are not…?" She asked once the woman pulled away, glancing pointedly down at the woman's stomach in silent question.

"Do not say such things!" Vanora warned with a watery laugh, swatting Breck's shoulder as she tried to compose herself. "I have enough children as is. I am merely happy to see you. Is this a crime?"

"Of course not." Breck responded before hugging her again. "I am pleased to see you."

"Breck! There you are!" She heard Bors' obnoxiously loud cry sound over the crowd as she and Vanora pulled out their hug once more. The man practically bowled people over to get to her and then proceeded to lock an arm around her neck before rubbing the knuckles of his free hand into the top of her head. Breck protested, trying to push the large man away, and then scowled at him when he released her with a boisterous laugh. It was a miracle that the wine in her arms had survived the onslaught of affection. "Pleased to see ya." He said, slapping a hand against her back roughly.

"And you as well." She said, eyeing him almost warily as he dragged her over to the bar, a bit afraid of him in his enthusiasm. Sometimes the man really did _not _know how strong he was. One of these days he was going to hurt her and it would be purely by accident, she was sure of it.

"My love, a round of drinks!" Bors ordered as Vanora went behind the bar again.

Breck took the moment to glance at the table in the far corner and saw that Dagonet, Tristan, and Lancelot were already at the table and waiting for her. Lancelot was already chatting up one of the nearby women and didn't appear to have realized she was there yet, but Dagonet raised his drink to her with a nod of his head and a large smile plastered onto his face. She waved at him with a grin before shifting her gaze to Tristan. He already had a mug of ale in his hands and she could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth twitch up once their gazes met, but he covered it up quickly by taking a drink.

"Gawain! At last!" Galahad said on her right, pulling her attention away from Tristan.

Gawain paused when he spotted her and then walked over, offering her a small smile. "Breck, I am glad you have returned safely." He said sincerely.

Acutely aware of the fact that Bors, Galahad and Vanora were all watching them carefully, Breck nodded and returned his smile. "Thank you. I am happy to see you, Gawain." She responded. "Vanora, might I have a pair of goblets instead?" Breck asked, pushing the ale Bors was offering back into his hands and showing him the wine she had brought.

"Wha's that?" Bors asked, studying the tankard.

"Not your business." She said with a laugh before shoving him away gently. "Go, and take Galahad as well. I wish to speak with Gawain in private." Breck commanded, shooing them away. The two knights grumbled but left anyway, hands loaded down with ale for the table.

"Here you are, dear." Vanora said before hanging over the two wine goblets.

The awkwardness was undeniable as she and Gawain finally stood alone and she cleared her throat before reaching to uncork the tankard of wine she'd brought. This was the first time she'd had to apologize for something of this nature, so what was she supposed to do now? Gawain looked a little uncomfortable and she saw him fidget out of the corner of her eye. Breck began filling up one of the goblets and glanced at him before clearing her throat to speak.

"I trust you are well?" Breck asked him.

"Yes, quite." He answered reassuringly. He eyed the goblet she was now holding out him and then sniffed at it curiously. "Wine?" He asked.

"This, my friend, is an offering of peace." She admitted with a guilty smile.

Gawain seemed to realize then why she had wanted to talk to him alone and nodded, the tension beginning to leave his shoulders until he smiled at her and shook his head. "I might have known…" He mused as he watched her pour herself a glass. "There is no requirement for a peace offering." He reassured her. "I am not angry with you."

"And I am both thankful and blessed you are not." She responded. "But an apology on my part _does _need to be made." Breck added firmly. "I should have been honest from the start and I am a horrible person for the hurt I caused you. I do not deserve you as a friend."

Gawain stared at her for a long moment before running a hand through his hair and looking intently into his wine glass. He glanced over in the direction of the table with a pensive look on his handsome face and then exhaled loudly. When his gaze finally met hers again, he smiled gently and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You cannot help who your heart yearns for. I appreciate and accept your apology, however unnecessary it may be." He responded before finally clinking his goblet against hers. "To friendship?"

"To friendship." She agreed before they both downed their drinks.

Gawain smacked his lips together in appreciation once they were finished with their drinks and then reached for the tankard to peer into it. "A fine wine." He said in appreciation. "Where did you locate it?"

Breck grinned and pressed her index finger over her lips, signaling for him to be quite before leaning closer. "I stole it from Arthur." She revealed, remembering the afternoon that she had stumbled across his wine collection and tasted each one herself before walking off with the one she liked the most.

Gawain threw his head back and laughed heartily, reaching for the wine to refill both of their glasses. "I _knew _the man was hoarding the good drink…" He tsked, shaking his head before pushing her glass back into her hands. "You are sure you wish to give this to me?"

"With all certainty." Breck responded with a nod. "My present to you."

As she and Gawain indulged in a bit more wine, she glanced over at the table the knights had claimed for the night. Tristan had been roped into a bout of dagger throwing by Galahad but Breck could tell that he was not paying very much attention to their game. Instead, his eyes continued to dart over to where she and Gawain stood. And though she could tell he was trying to be discreet, it was obvious that he was very interested in what was transpiring between her and Gawain. Breck smiled to herself and shook her head, wondering at how dense the man could be. She had kissed him just last night, for God's sake – didn't he know by now that he was the only one she yearned for?

"Have any more fights occurred between you and Tristan?" Breck asked, turning her attention back to Gawain.

"No." Gawain answered with a shake of his head, holding a hand out to signal Vanora over. "Our friendship has resumed as normal. We…reached an understanding." He explained before ordering a loaf of bread and large square of cheese. Breck quirked an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. "Food?" He offered with a smirk, holding out a piece of bread to her.

"My thanks." Breck said slowly, taking the bread and studying him. "May I enquire to this understanding?" She finally asked when it appeared Gawain wasn't going to elaborate further.

"Tis not my place to disclose such information." Gawain said with a shrug.

Breck scowled and shook her head. "You men and your sudden secrets. Infuriating, the lot of you." She grumbled.

"The lot of us?" Gawain asked innocently.

"Aye – you, them," she said, motioning over to the table where Galahad and Lancelot were, "Arthur. You have all cast me into the shadows with your unwillingness to indulge me any details." She said irritably. "Tis unfair."

"What is the complaint?" A new voice asked.

Gawain and Breck both turned at the same time to see who had arrived before Gawain grinned and slapped Arthur on the back in greeting. "Arthur, a pleasure to see you, friend." He said happily before leaning against Arthur's shoulder and pointing at the Celt before them. "Breck is unhappy that we withhold information from her." He informed his commanding officer.

"Of course she is." Arthur smirked and shook his head, making Breck shoot him a grumpy look. "Too meddlesome for her own good, this one." He said teasingly before his eyes dropped to the tankard that sat on the bar between Breck and Gawain. Arthur pointed at his questioningly, obviously trying to figure out why it looked familiar, while the two friends indulging in the wine shared a conspiratorial look. "I have seen this before…" Arthur said, beginning to reach for it.

"Nonsense." Breck said with an innocent smile, snatching it up before Arthur could reach it and then practically shoving it into Gawain's hands. "Come, let us sit." She said quickly.

Arthur gazed at them suspiciously but turned to lead the way at Breck's insistent shoves. She and Gawain both stifled their laughter and when the Sarmatian patted her shoulder in a friendly manner, she couldn't help but shoot him a smile. Breck was confident they would be able to move past their differences and it made her happy to know that things would return to normal between them. Gawain was a good man and a good friend and she was glad that he would still be in her life in this respect. She did have to wonder what had transpired between him and Tristan, though. It was safe to assume that _something _had changed while she was gone and she hoped she would find out soon. This secrecy was going to drive her insane.

"Arthur!" Bors called loudly as they approached.

Arthur waved to the table in greeting and then sat down next to Lancelot while Gawain and Breck sat down on either side of Dagonet. Tristan and Galahad were still in the midst of the game but she had chosen the spot that would put her closest to the Sarmatian scout. He inclined his head towards her once they made eye contact and she returned the gesture, only averting her attention away when Lancelot addressed her.

"He let you live then?" Lancelot asked, peering at her from around the woman that was on his lap just long enough to give Breck a once over, as though checking for signs of injury.

"Aye." She answered. "Surprisingly, the encounter was quite mild compared to what I imagined awaited for me." She informed the group, eyeing Arthur a bit suspiciously.

"Is that so?" Bors asked, peering at Arthur.

The Roman only shrugged and snatched a mug of ale from the center of the table. "My previous lectures have only ever prompted her to do the exact opposite of my wishes." He said as an excuse, glaring at her mockingly.

"You have mind-tricks, then?" Breck shot at him incredulously. "They shall not work."

"We shall see."

The table began chuckling and Breck merely rolled her eyes, tossing a bit of bread at Arthur.

"Gather 'round!" Galahad suddenly called, walking back to the table. "Gather 'round."

Everyone fell silent as Galahad took a stance at the head of the table and it was obvious the man wanted to say something. He and Tristan had both walked away from their game of dagger throwing and the scout was now motioning for her to make room for him on the bench with a wave of his hand; the move did _not _go unnoticed by the other knights. As she scooted over to make room for him to sit next to her, they nudged each other or coughed behind their hands, blatantly staring at them. Breck flushed a bit but Tristan seemed oblivious to the antics of his comrades. He was so close now that his knee brushed against hers while he sat and she could smell the scent of the Earth on his clothes – it was everything in her not to lean against him as a sense of contentment consumed her.

"First," Galahad started once he had everyone's attention, "I wish to welcome back our friend Breck now that she has deemed it fit to return to the Wall." He said, raising his glass towards her. The table cheered and she smiled a bit bashfully at the attention, blushing even further when she saw the tiniest, subtlest hint of a smile at the corner of Tristan's mouth while he gazed at her.

"Here, here!" Bors agreed. "Tenacious woman, you are." He added. "But we claim you regardless."

"My thanks." She said sarcastically, making the table chuckle.

Galahad smiled at his friends before him for a long moment, making Breck suspicious of how much alcohol he'd indulged himself _before _coming to the tavern, and then spoke again. "My comrades, my friends – one month." He said, holding up one index finger. "That is all the separates us from our freedom." He reminded them, making the knights around her nod eagerly. "We have lost many good men. And though their memories shall never be forgotten, I wish to be the first to say that it has been an honor fighting alongside each of you men before me." Galahad concluded. "To freedom!"

"Freedom!"

Breck sipped her wine quietly as the men slapped each other on the back in response to Galahad's words. Guilt almost instantly began to nag at her as she thought about the Saxon army that was drawing ever more near. The hope in the eyes of the Sarmatians made her wish with everything in her being that they would be gone from this place before the monstrous army was upon them, but the chances of such a wish being granted were slim. Breck set her wine down as Galahad began to sing a loud song with Gawain and chanced a look over at Arthur. He had forced on a smile but it did not reach his eyes and she could tell it wasn't genuine – when he met her gaze, she knew he was thinking about the same thing she was. Breck smiled at him regretfully, to which he nodded, and then the both of them turned their attention elsewhere before anyone else could see the exchange.

* * *

It took some effort, but after a good four or five rounds of drinks she was finally able to push away her guilt and enjoy the festivities of the night. It was almost bittersweet, being allowed to have the benefit of seeing the men in such high spirits, especially when she knew it might not be something that would last. But Breck also knew they would not get very many nights like this and was determined to enjoy it. The more intoxicated she and the knights became, the rowdier their table started getting, but the obnoxious group of friends was oblivious to the attention that their table was drawing.

Breck grabbed for her mug of ale and took a moment to gaze at Tristan. He had yet to move from his spot next to her and though his conversation throughout the night had been friendly, the look behind his eyes was quite different from what it normally was and made her heart thump hard in her chest. She already strongly suspected that he knew exactly what it was that she felt for him, but she knew that she needed to tell him so herself. There was no way of knowing what would become of them once the Saxons arrived, but Breck wanted to take full advantage of the time she _did _have with him until then. The time for games was over; the time to be honest with each other had arrived.

As though he could feel her gaze on him, Tristan turned his head and glanced down at her. Her eyes dropped to his lips on their own accord before she blushed and took another long drink of ale, her eyes turning to study the other knights. Lancelot and even Galahad were blatantly showing off their ladies for the evening and Breck watched them with interest. Part of her almost yearned for the same attention, just so the other women in town would know that Tristan was hers, but their relationship (whatever it may be) was still too fresh for such displays and they were both _far _too private. Even if he had yet to tell her so himself, she knew that Tristan cared about her; she didn't need him to paw her lustfully in the middle of the tavern to prove it to her. Anything significant that had transpired between them had been when they were alone and she preferred it that way.

"The time has come." Bors said loudly as he pushed a protesting Lancelot out of the way roughly, nearly sending the knight and his woman sprawling to the ground, and then deposited himself in the seat across from her and Tristan. "Tell me – 'ow many did ya kill?"

Breck, happy for the distraction since her thoughts on Tristan were beginning to make a pleasant warmth tingle in her nerves, and puffed her chest out proudly. "Seven."

"Seven." Bors said, looking drunkenly impressed. Arthur had heard her and was looking at her approvingly. "Not bad…for a girl." He said, making her scoff at him. "All Woads?"

"Mostly." She confirmed with a nod, leaving the Saxons out of the conversation. "Not overly skilled, though their numbers would be quite overwhelming in battle. Maybe even beneficial." She mused. Breck hadn't meant for it to sound like a jibe at Arthur's unwillingness to side with the Woads, but the expression that crossed his face let her know that was the way he'd taken it and was not happy with what she'd said. Breck pursed her lips and looked away from him quickly. "Some may believe, anyway…" She added lamely.

"Those blue devils are a bloody nuisance, if you ask me." Bors growled. "When I have run of this place, they shall be the first to go." He threatened loudly. "You'll help me rid of them, right Tristan?"

"No need." Tristan responded. "Send out your bastards – that brood would scare anyone off." He suggested dryly, smirking at Bors over the top of his mug as he tilted it back to drink.

Tristan stood as Bors and Breck laughed loudly at his words, but both sobered up quickly when he turned back to face her and extended a hand in her direction. She knew from past experience that he was bolder when he had alcohol in him but what did he have in mind right then? The almost mischievous look in his eyes was uncommon for him but sent a thrill through her. "I challenge you, Saxon, to a match." He informed her, his eyes holding hers steadily.

Trying to keep herself together, Breck nodded and quirked an eyebrow at him competitively. "I accept, Sarmatian." She said, mindful of the many eyes on them at that moment.

She slipped her hand into his so that he could pull her up from the bench and an instant jolt coursed all the way through her arm when his hand wrapped securely around hers. Breck couldn't help but admire the stark contrast of his tanned skin next to her own pale complexion and offered him a small smirk before he released her and then motioned for her to take her stance at the throwing line.

"Be mindful of that one!" Galahad warned. "Her aim is noteworthy!"

"As is Tristan's." Lancelot countered before slamming a few coins down onto the table. "I bet on Tristan."

Breck shot a glare in Lancelot's direction and then stepped up to the line, pulling her dagger from her boot and then bringing it up to take aim. It was harder to fpcus with the influence of the ale in her system, but her first throw landed close enough to the center to leave her feeling confident. She stepped out of the way and gestured for Tristan to take his turn. He eyed her for a moment before walking up and then effortlessly throwing his dagger dead center. The proud look he shot her made her roll her eyes and once he was pressing the hilt of her dagger into her hand again, she took her next throw. This one landed on the outskirts of the target and she heaved, turning her eyes up to the sky in exasperation.

"Some have coin bet on the outcome of this, I shall have you know." Galahad shot at her grumpily.

As Tristan took his next turn, which of course landed dead center as well, Breck noticed that they were being closely watched by a gaggle of women near the bar. One in particular caught her interest, and Breck narrowed her eyes as she recognized the wench that had thrown herself at Tristan a few weeks ago. The woman was openly glaring at them and Breck shot her a sweet condescending smile, which in turn earned her a scowl. Breck didn't care much for the woman, but she had to somewhat thank her for what she'd done – otherwise, things might have never changed between her and Tristan.

"Last opportunity for redemption." Tristan said as he handed back her dagger, catching her attention again.

Breck's next throw landed dead center and her victorious cheer was echoed by Galahad. Her joy was short-lived, however, when Tristan took his last throw and not only landed it dead in the center of the target, but also dead in the center of her dagger's hilt. The sight of his dagger protruding from hers made her look at the scout in disbelief before she crossed her arms and scowled. He only smirked triumphantly, looking very pleased with himself.

"Oh yes, I forgot." Galahad called gloomily as he passed his money over to a cheery looking Lancelot. "He does that now and again…"

Most every turned their attention elsewhere now that the game had concluded and Breck was just about to go and collect the daggers when Tristan came to stand just behind her left shoulder, making her freeze. He was so close that she could just barely feel his chest pressing against her and she held her breath when he moved to speak in her ear. "I believe I am victorious." He said lowly for only her to hear.

His closeness was highly distracting but she pulled herself together so as to avoid looking like a fool. Then in the next moment, she simply couldn't resist temptation – Breck glanced in the direction of the wench to see if the woman was watching the exchange between her and Tristan. The woman definitely was and she scowled with a rude gesture before turning and storming out of the tavern. With a smirk, Breck immediately thought, _'I am victorious as well.'_

She looked at Tristan over her shoulder and raised an inquisitive brow, focusing her attention back on him. "Shall I drink now?" She asked, completely aware that she would only need to move forward a few inches if she wanted to kiss him right then, which was sorely tempting.

"No." He said with a shake of his head, causing her to look at him in confusion.

"What be my payment for losing, then?" She asked.

When his eyes dropped down to her lips it was hard to remember how to breathe. Both of their kisses had happened when the other was not expecting it and _never _had Tristan actually tried to charm her like he was now. The effect of his actions were instantaneous – she found herself leaning into him unconsciously as she fell under his spell, smiling when she felt his hand rest lightly on the middle of her back, and gazed at his own mouth for a long moment before meeting his gaze again. "My, my…" She said slowly. "Did you require Galahad to give such a payment as well?" She asked teasingly. "I have competition."

For the first time, a small and genuine smile made its way onto Tristan's lips for a moment before he opened his mouth to retort. Breck tried not to become too irritated with him, wondering why he was choosing _this _moment to be talkative when he could be putting his lips to much better use, but their private moment was interrupted before either could say or do anything else.

"Arthur! Arthur!" A man cried as he ran through the tavern, gaining the attention of all the patrons. "Arthur!"

"What has happened? Speak quickly." Arthur said, standing from the table quickly as the out-of-breath man doubled over to try and collect himself.

"Woads…in the town…"

All at once the knights were moving into action while the patrons began expressing their alarm at the situation. Breck frowned at both the thought of the knights going to fight when they had been drinking and because she had never heard of the Woads actually coming into the fort at Hadrian's Wall. Why would the Woads attempt such a dangerous mission? With a start, she began to wonder if maybe the Woads were looking for _her_. What if Merlin had come to a decision and wished to speak with her again? It had only been a day since she had left him, but perhaps he was seeking her out already.

"Make for your homes!" Arthur called over the noise of the crowd. "Nobody is to be out this night!" He found her face in the crowd and pointed warningly, not needing to vocalize what he wanted her to do, and then turned to leave.

Breck frowned and looked to Tristan when he pressed the hilt of her dagger into her hand. "Tristan, wait." Breck said as he started to move away from her, grasping onto his arm quickly and making him look at her curiously. If the Woads _were _looking for her, she wanted to know why. "Allow me to come with you."

"No." He said at once, shaking his head as he stowed his own dagger away. "Go to your quarters immediately."

"But – "

"Breck." He interrupted firmly, making her shut her mouth. "Do as I ask."

With a heave she finally nodded and released his arm. "Be safe." She commanded firmly.

Tristan lingered for only a moment longer before nodding at her and turning on his heel to leave when Dagonet called for him. She watched the knights go until the disappeared into the crowd, highly considering going to search for the Woads on her own but then concluding that it would end up getting her in trouble. Instead, Breck hid her dagger back in her boot and then went to find Vanora, deciding to actually do as she was asked this time and then wondering if Arthur's mind tricks had worked on her after all.

* * *

**A/N: Man, it is HARD to write romantic-Tristan. He's not your run of the mill, flowers and chocolates kinda dude, ya know? But I like subtly-charming Tristan. Not too OOC, right?**

**Thouhts?**


	25. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

She had tried valiantly to stay awake until the knights returned, eager to hear any news regarding the Woads, but eventually the alcohol had prevailed and Breck fell asleep after lying in bed for only a mere twenty minutes. Breck lay in bed now, suffering from another delightful hangover, and threw her arm over her eyes to block out the offending sunlight. If she hadn't been awoken by Galahad's obnoxious snores on the other side of her wall, she might have been more concerned for the safety of the knights. But since she assumed they had all made it back safe and sound, she allowed herself another half hour of relaxation in her bed before finally dragging herself up to get dressed, grabbing her bow and arrows, and then heading to the tavern for breakfast.

The townsfolk seemed to be going about their daily lives as usual. As far as Breck could tell, nothing, not even a chicken, was out of place as she walked through the streets and it was almost like the Woads had never come in the first place. So why had the Woads come into the fort? It was obvious they had not come with the intent of attacking; otherwise at least _something _would be in shambles by now. They had come in the nighttime, which made it a highly unlikely possibility that they had come to meet with anyone of importance, like Arthur. The only plausible explanation was that they had come looking for her but had obviously been intercepted before she could be reached.

Just like yesterday, the moment she stepped into the tavern she was swarmed with hugs and cries of excitement. Her hangover restricted her from registering who had hugged her and why the people attaching themselves to her hips and legs were so small, but she quickly discerned that it was just Vanora and Bors' gang of children. She laughed as happily as her hangover would permit and patted the children's heads in greeting.

"We are glad you have returned!"

"Did _you _kill _Woads_?"

"Where did ya go?"

Breck grimaced against the rapid firing of questions and tried to disentangle herself from them as gently as she could. "Children, children…" Breck began to plead with them as she attempted to shuffle her way to the bar. "Allow me a moment of peace, I beg you."

"Kids!" Vanora snapped loudly, making Breck wince at the volume of it. The children scrambled away from her though and Breck cast her a grateful look. "More stew?"

"Aye, is my unwilling answer." Breck sighed, massaging her temples with her fingertips. She glanced back to see where the children had gone and spotted them surrounding a tired and hungover looking Bors. She sympathized with the man as he braced himself against the onslaught of his children and then turned to face Vanora again.

Vanora bowled a bit of the stew for her, threw a piece of bread on top of it, and then pushed the bowl in Breck's direction. Breck knew what to expect from the offensive meal but it did not make the bitterness of it any less unpleasant as she dug in. "I must confess…" Vanora trailed off with a wide grin, waiting for Breck to look up at her. "You and Tristan present a _fine _pair."

Breck shook her head in amusement and couldn't help the small smile. Vanora, the gossip…"Were you _spying_?" Breck asked accusingly, shooting the woman a playful glare.

"Observing." Vanora corrected haughtily. "It was impossible not to – I could feel the heat between the pair of you all the way from here." She said dramatically, fanning herself off with her hand.

"Hush." Breck hissed at her with a blush, making the woman laugh mischievously.

Vanora leaned in closer and grabbed one of Breck's hands, squeezing it excitedly as she dropped her voice to a whisper. "He is your man now?"

"Perhaps…" Breck answered with a shrug. "That remains to be seen."

Vanora scoffed but couldn't hide the pleased look in her eyes. "I should think it obvious."

Their conversation was beginning to draw attention to them and Breck decided to change the subject, not wanting her and Tristan's business to be the topic of the day. "What of the Woads? Did Bors speak of it?" Breck asked finishing her meal with a cringe on her face and then grabbing for the cup of water Vanora had just passed to her.

"Long gone, according to him. They never even spotted them." Vanora answered with a roll of her eyes. "Blasted Woads…why come here if not to attack? They are bewildering and irritating." She complained, her voice rising in her indignation.

"And it is far too early for shouting." Breck said, muffling her ears. "You are sure you are not with child?" She asked unsurely, eyeing the woman's belly again. With the way the woman's moods had been swinging so rapidly these past two days, it would not be a big surprise.

Vanora pointed at her threateningly without saying a word before wagging it at her and going to help another customer. Breck pushed away her bowl, sighing in relief when the nausea started to leave her stomach, and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She dropped a few coins on the bar and then went over to the table that Bors and the children were occupying – Bors still looked worse for wear and his children didn't appear to be helping his condition. Breck grinned and begun shushing the children, weaving through them to get to Bors.

"How are you?" Breck asked, leaning against the table next to him.

"Ugh." Was his response. Apparently, the combination of alcohol and Woad hunting was not a pleasant one, if his current state was anything to judge by.

"The stew will ease your suffering." She instructed him.

"S' vile…" He grumbled in protest.

Breck laughed and shook her head. "But worth the pain." Then she nudged him, to get his attention. "Where were the Woads spotted?"

"The east tree-line." He answered blearily. "But you did not hear it from me." He concluded before pushing her away from him, wordlessly telling her to leave him alone.

She took the hint and decided to let the poor man suffer in peace. "Thank you, Bors. Enjoy the day." Breck said with a pat to his back. Then she bid goodbye to the children and stepped up to the bar one last time. "Vanora, if Tristan comes searching for me might you inform him I went to the arena?" She asked.

When the woman nodded that she would, Breck waved to her and turned to leave. It was a relief to feel her hangover taking its leave so that she could go about her day as planned. Breck had every intention of getting in some practice at the arena, but first she wanted to search around a bit to see if the Woads had left any sort of message for her to find.

She was almost to the door when it swung open, the sounds of raucous laughter coming in with it in high pitched tones and gathering the attention of most of the tavern. Breck cringed when she realized it was the wenches that loved to hate her and squared her shoulders as went to walk past them. As luck would have it, the one wench that seemed to be fighting her for Tristan's attention was standing near the rear of the group and placed her hands on her hips as Breck approached.

"Well, well…the Celtic whore in the flesh." She said snootily.

Breck came to a halt next to her and quirked an eyebrow, watching the woman steadily as she sized her up. "Whore?" She asked calmly. "Have I earned this name?" She questioned further with a curious look on her face, preparing herself for the onslaught of insults surely intended for her.

"Do not act innocent." The woman said snidely. "The whole of the town is aware of _your _promiscuity. First Arthur, then Gawain, now Tristan?" She listed off in a crude manner. Breck would have been more angered by her words if the rumors she spouted out had any semblance of truth to them. But since they did not, Breck only smiled at her in amusement as she ranted. "Who next? Lancelot? He should be easy to obtain."

Breck nodded and shot her a sarcastic smile. "It appears you have me figured out…" She paused, trying to think if she had ever heard the woman's name before, and then shrugged. "Forgive me, I do not recall your name. Should I refer to you as, 'whore'?" She asked in mocking confusion.

The woman's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms, looking Breck up and down. "I've no idea what draws him to the likes of you." She spat.

Breck, on the other hand, smiled sweetly. "I suppose you would not." She shot at her. "I know _precisely _what he saw in _you _though, along with every other man that crosses your path – _easy catch_." The woman spluttered angrily at Breck's words so the Celt, feeling pretty triumphant, waved to her dismissively and then went past her to leave.

"Remember, this is _your _man we speak of. _I've _had him – have you?" The wench shot at her.

Breck's patience was _really _beginning to wear thin now. It didn't help that she already detested the pest of a woman, but if she was going to start saying negative things about Tristan or her relationship with him, things were going to get bad quickly. The wench was dangerously close to crossing the line and if she didn't stop talking soon, Breck was going to force her.

"I could give you advice if you wish." She called to Breck's back. "Educate you on what he likes?" She offered with a cackle. "That way you will not sorely disapp – "

Her insult was cut off abruptly when Breck turned on her heel, reared her fist back, and then punched her directly in the nose. Pain flared up in her hand upon contact, but even as she tried to shake the pain out of her hand she couldn't suppress the sense of accomplishment that she felt in that moment – the irritating wench was rolling back and forth on the ground and clutching her bloodied nose while she sobbed, her friends coming to her rescue immediately.

Breck looked around to see that most of the tavern was watching her with gaping mouths. Most of the expressions were that of confusion but a few were nodding in approval. Breck shrugged at Vanora's amused look, glanced one last time at the woman she'd just hit and then turned to leave without another word. There would probably be a new bout of rumors going through the town after that but if the punch had taught the wench her lesson, Breck would gladly welcome it.

* * *

The search in the tree-line proved to be unsuccessful. There was no hope of following any Woad tracks since the knights' horses had completely trampled the area and as far as she could tell, there had been no messages or notes left anywhere amongst the foliage. Yet regardless of the fact that she was left clueless about their reason for trespassing, Breck knew she would need to go and speak with Merlin. The real dilemma was finding a way north of the wall again. Arthur had been unable to stop her once but she highly suspected that she would not have the same luck a second time.

The arena was deserted when Breck arrived, much to her delight, and she immediately headed over to the archery targets. She had allowed herself a day of relaxation and recuperation the previous day but now it was time to focus again and resume her business. She needed to keep her skills sharp and be completely ready to face the army that approached, especially if she and Arthur would not have very many allies on their side.

While she began firing arrow after arrow into the targets, her mind turned to Cerdic. How would she go about killing him? Breck had attempted to sneak past his soldiers before and it had only ever resulted in stirring up a commotion. Perhaps, she wondered as she pictured Cerdic's face in the middle of one of the targets, she could challenge him? She launched the arrow into the imaginary face and then frowned. Who was to say that the Saxons would not just kill her should she prevail against their leader? She would have the support of Arthur and (more then likely) the knights behind her, but could the eight of them and a small group of Roman infantry take on the massive Saxon army? Cynric would no doubt be fighting along his father and Breck frowned before picturing his face next and releasing an arrow into his forehead. He would have to be dealt with as well – if he gained control of the army, they would be even more barbaric under his rule.

There were no two ways about it; whether the Woads sided with Arthur or not they _had _to fight. If they didn't, Briton was going to belong to the Saxons. It was unlikely that the Woads _wouldn't _want to fight for their land but she made a mental note to bring up the subject when she went to see Merlin anyway. She hoped she hadn't put too much faith in the strange natives and that they would still allow her to pass through the forest freely – it would be an awful shame to have come this far only to be killed when she was so close to her goal.

Breck notched another arrow and buried it into the center of the target in front of her, releasing a heave. Everything would be alright; she just had to keep reminding herself that. Despite most of her success coming with a price, God hadn't led her astray yet and she _had _been lucky thus far with how everything was falling into place. The Woads _would _fight and she and Arthur, along with Sarmatians, had enough skill on their side to take on the Saxons. _We shall prevail_, Breck reminded herself.

She had just readied another arrow when a voice interrupted her. "Eventful morning?"

Breck froze and suppressed the urge to grin, glancing at Tristan over her shoulder before burying the arrow into its target. "No busier then normal." She responded as she lowered her weapon and turned to face him, all thoughts of the Saxons getting pushed to the side of the moment. "Why do you ask?"

Tristan only gave her a disbelieving, albeit slightly amused look. A look that said, _'You know exactly what I speak of'_.

"She earned it." Breck said defensively. "The woman has been a thorn in my side for ages."

"I have come to realize." Tristan responded dryly, making her narrow her eyes at him as if to say _'this is your fault'_. His eyes glanced over to her right hand and she tried to hide the bruising that was appearing on her knuckles, but he had had already seen them. "Your hand?" He asked, stepping forward and holding a hand out to her expectantly. With a roll of her eyes she placed her hand in Tristan's and let him poke and prod at it in inspection. "You must be careful with your hands." Tristan chastised.

"My hands are perfectly fine." She grumbled, pulling her hand out of his grasp. "Tis only a bruise."

Tristan nodded, though he didn't look convinced, and watched her as she fired two more arrows into the targets. "How did she come to earn your punch?" He finally asked.

Breck lowered her bow again and turned to face him. "She spoke crude words against the both of us." She revealed. "It angered me. So…you are welcome for defending your reputation." Breck finished with a huff, watching a smirk appear in the corner of his mouth. "And you are also welcome for my saving of your bird, furthermore." She added as an afterthought. "Had I not vouched for it, your pet would have made a delicious meal for the Woads."

She didn't realize how much information she had just given away to Tristan until his eyes narrowed searchingly at her, a look of interest on his face now. She knew she had said too much and it had piqued his curiosity. "There is a secret you keep from me…what is it?" He asked slowly.

Breck pursed her lips and began fiddling with her bow, feigning interest in the weapon. "Nothing you need concern yourself with." She said slowly, meeting his gaze hesitantly. He didn't look pleased with her response.

"Breck…" If Tristan kept saying her name like that, her heart was going to stop beating all together. "I am no fool. And I saw how Arthur reacted to your words about the Woads." Damn him, he was perceptive. "What transpired between you and the Woads?"

Breck chewed on her lip for a moment, contemplating if she should tell him or not, before finally letting out a long breath. "Upon surviving one of their attacks Merlin saw fit to seek me out. He only allowed my survival if I agreed to exchange information with him."

"You bartered with Merlin?" Tristan asked in obvious surprise.

"Aye." She confirmed. "He granted me free passage through their lands in exchange for information." She explained. "I believe the Woads came into the town in search of me last night, which is why I wished to join you so that I may speak with them."

"Your trust of the Woads is disturbing." Tristan said in blatant disapproval. "Why would they feel need to contact you again?"

Breck sighed and rubbed her forehead. How could she tell him about her request of the Woads without also divulging him news of the Saxons? And how in the world was she supposed to explain to him that the Saxons were coming to try and burn down the very place Tristan had defended for the past fifteen years? The land itself meant nothing to him but his sacrifice surely did. Did Breck really want to be the one that told him it might have all been for nothing?

"I wish to tell you." Breck finally said slowly before an idea popped into her mind. "I will go to speak with Merlin again soon – join me and all will be explained then, I promise you."

Tristan shook his head at her words. "You wish me to venture with you into Woad territory?" He asked disbelievingly.

"Aye." She answered with a nod.

"Have you any idea how many Woads I have killed?" He asked her next.

"Aye, well…" Breck hadn't considered the fact that the Woads probably knew who Tristan was and most likely did not like him very much. "I believe the Woads trust me to an extent. If you are with me they will not harm you." She said, trying to sound confident.

"Your insanity will bring death upon me some day." Tristan mused before sighing heavily. "I will join you." He conceded, though he didn't look thrilled to be agreeing to it. "If only to ensure you survive the Woads a second time."

"Third time, in actuality." Breck said smugly.

Tristan shot her a disapproving look and shook his head. "Arthur knows you have dealings with Woads?"

Breck cringed and nodded. "In the past, aye. Presently…?" She trailed off, looking at him with a bit of a guilty expression.

Tristan quirked a brow at her. "I will say nothing." He said, letting her know he'd deciphered the meaning of her words.

Breck held her right hand out to him, intending to shake on the deal, but the move caught Tristan's attention for a different reason. He frowned and then stepped closer to her, grasping her hand and then tuning it over to inspect the long oath-scar that stretched across her palm. His proximity mixed with his touch brought forth the same feelings from the previous night and she took a calming breath as she watched him closely, reminding herself that it was _not _appropriate to pounce on him.

"Self inflicted." She informed him as steadily as she could, suppressing a shiver of delight when his finger trailed along the length of the long-healed gash.

The look on Tristan's face when his gaze met hers again made her believe he wanted to question her further on the scar, but he seemed to realize just _how _close they actually were at the same time that she did. His eyes dropped down to her lips, the question in gaze changing to something she couldn't quite place her finger on, and then he used his hold on her hand to pull her closer to him. He tilted her chin up with the knuckle of his index finger and Breck was unable help the smile that stretched across her face as he finally leaned down to kiss her.

If Breck had still had any doubts over the way Tristan felt for her, they would have been obliterated in that very moment. It was impossible to mistake the hunger behind his kiss or feel how possessively his hands held her to him. His touch sent lighting right into her nerves and Breck wrapped her arms around his neck in an attempt to stay upright as her lips moved with his. The sigh that escaped him when her fingers found their way into his hair warmed her heart and it was in that juncture of time that she knew Tristan had ruined all other men for her. This annoying, handsome, insufferable, incredible man would be the only one she would ever want.

_I love him_.

Breck pulled away from the kiss, both out of need for air and out of surprise at having admitted to herself that, _yes_, was _in love _with Tristan. Her mother had always told her that she would know when her heart had chosen someone and, God rest her, she was correct. Tristan lowered his forehead to rest against hers, keeping her close with his hands on her waist and she couldn't help but smile up at him and toy with one of his braids. "I certainly hope you did not kiss Galahad like that…" She teased, brushing her fingers along his bearded cheek for a moment.

"You speak too much." Tristan growled before kissing her again to silence the protest about to leave her lips. When he pulled away a few moments later, Tristan gazed at her steadily then smoothed some of her hair back from her face. "Do not waste your fists on the women here – you have no competition." He informed with a smirk, pressing a short kiss to her lips before stepping away from her all together.

Breck could hardly contain her grin. Tristan was a man of few words but when he spoke, his words usually held a purpose to them. Even if he hadn't professed his undying love, his words just now had told her everything she needed to know – she was the only one Tristan cared about. Then she realized that he was walking away from her, _again_, and frowned. "Where do you go?" She called after him.

Tristan paused and turned to face her again. "To fetch Dagonet." He said simply. She must have looked confused because he smirked and explained himself. "You need to train against a man of Cerdic's size and he agreed to be your sparring partner."

Breck pursed her lips, still a bit confused by his sudden shift into his instructor role. "But…_now_?" She asked incredulously. After a mind-numbing kiss and confession of feelings, the first thing he thought of was Dagonet?

"Yes, now." Tristan said sternly. "We still have matters to tend to – unless you do not wish to defeat Cerdic?"

Breck scoffed at him and crossed her arms. "Of _course _I wish to defeat Cerdic." She said snootily.

"Good." He said, obviously amused with the way she was acting. She was trying very hard to glare at him, but seeing as he had just confessed his feelings for he_r, _she was finding it difficult. "Begin warming up. I shall return shortly." He said as he turned to leave, but not before giving her a long once-over with his eyes that left her nerves feeling tingly again.

Breck watched him go and shook her head in wonder at the amount of mood changes he brought within her. She loved that man, but by God he was going to be the death of her some day.

* * *

**A/N: So Breck punches someone in the face and then…**

**Fluff balls of love! Here's a fluff ball for you, and a fluff ball for you, oh! And you in the back! Here's a fluff ball. Fluff balls for everyone! **


	26. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Training with Dagonet was considerably different from training with Tristan – where the scout was vastly skilled with his sword and his bow, the towering Dagonet relied heavily on his brute strength. Seeing as Breck was significantly smaller then her new opponent, receiving bruises to both her body and her ego had not become an uncommon occurrence over the last few days. Only two sessions with the giant (that she no longer considered gentle) and she could feel aches and pains springing up in parts of her body that she hadn't previously thought could hurt.

Currently, the two of them were in the midst of another bout under the unusually bright afternoon sun. Breck was sore and beginning to sweat from the exertion of the fight, but was at least pleased that her quickness was beginning to wear Dagonet down.

"Quick feet." Tristan reminded her as he circled them, his arms crossed and a look of concentration on his face as he watched them spar.

Breck had no time to acknowledge Tristan's words as she was forced to duck quickly to avoid having her head lobbed off by Dagonet's sword. Once she'd recovered she scurried quickly to his left, trying to best him on his unarmed side. Dagonet merely dodged her next two slashes before countering them with his own.

When she dropped to the ground to avoid the wide arc of his sword, she then attempted to swipe at his legs. To her surprise, Dagonet moved much faster then she gathered he could and jumped over her blade. Then he took advantage of the fact that she was shooting him a surprised look and placed his foot against her shoulder before forcefully sending her careening onto her back. Breck felt the air rush out of her lungs only a moment before she could feel the cool metal of Dagonet's sword against her throat.

Breck eyed the blade for a moment before glaring up at Dagonet. "You cheated." She accused.

"You were distracted." Dagonet corrected. "You presented the opportunity and I merely seized it."

Dagonet pulled his sword away from her neck and then offered a hand to help pull her up from the ground. Breck grumbled and ignored his gesture, standing up on her own and brushing the dirt from her clothes with a huff. Dagonet didn't even attempt to hide how amusing he was finding her temper tantrum, but when she looked over at Tristan, his look of disappointment had her annoyance melting away. Instead, she began to feel a bit foolish that she had, yet again, been beaten by Dagonet.

"I am at fault. It shall not happen again." Breck said quickly.

"Had he been Cerdic, there would be _no _opportunity for reoccurrence – you would be dead." Tristan scolded. "Again. And with purpose this time." He instructed before moving out of their way.

Breck resisted her every temptation to shoot a nasty look at him and took her stance before Dagonet again. Romance or not, now that Breck had resumed her training she found that Tristan hadn't eased up on his strict instructions in the slightest. In fact, she was fairly confident that he was being even harder on her _because _they had become romantically involved – he had been picking at her for every little mistake she made for the past two days of sparring and it was slowly driving her mad. They had not had the opportunity to be alone since their kiss in the arena but Breck was positive that the next time they were awarded some privacy, he would be receiving her fists and _not _her lips.

"Steady, Breck!" Galahad called to her from where he, Gawain, and Bors all sat on the benches near the armory, watching the session with interest. "He is yours this round!"

Breck took a deep breath to steady her irritation then locked her eyes on Dagonet. He stood casually, waiting for her to advance, and she only waited one more moment before charging him. He brought his sword up at the last moment and the clang reverberated all the way down her arms. With a growl, she freed her sword from his and began slashing at him quickly. He regained control of the fight after a few moments and went to strike her right side but Breck dodged his advance and quickly spun away from him, having just enough amount of time to land a firm kick to the back of his leg. Dagonet recovered quickly enough and quirked an eyebrow as he turned to face her again.

"Better." Tristan said in approval somewhere behind her.

They resumed their match after only a moment of hesitation and soon enough the sound of their clashing swords filled the air around them. Her hand itched to reach for the dagger in her boot, so when she was forced to hit the ground and roll away from one of his slashes she finally seized the opportunity. Breck quickly pulled the dagger from its hidden spot as she sprung back up to her feet and then narrowed her eyes at Dagonet in concentration, wielding both weapons before her.

Dagonet had to work doubly hard to fend off her attacks when she charged next, using his own blade to deter her sword and throwing his arm up to protect himself whenever she attempted to bring her dagger down onto him. Breck was finally beginning to feel like she might be getting the upper hand when he braced himself and rammed into her shoulder, nearly sending her onto the ground again. She stumbled but managed to collect herself, rotating the once-dislocated-shoulder to ease the pain there and glaring at her friend.

"Continue with that and I swear I shall remove your nose." Breck growled, wagging her dagger at him threateningly.

Dagonet held a hand up in surrender but she did not miss the smug look on his face. She thought about delivering another biting comment but held her tongue when she saw Tristan walking towards her.

"You still stand – an improvement." Tristan said, looking at least somewhat pleased with her. He held a hand up to Dagonet to signal that he could relax and then came to a halt in front of her. "Agility is your strongest weapon. You can maneuver how Cerdic cannot. Use this to your advantage." He reminded her before glancing at her shoulder with a questioning look.

"I am fine." She said, still glaring at Dagonet over his shoulder even though the man did not look the least bit intimidated.

Tristan nodded once and then stepped out of her way for her to continue. Breck swished her sword around, tightened her grip on her dagger, and then attacked once more to the cheering of the knights on the benches. They countered back and forth for a long while, the control of the fight shifting quickly between her and Dagonet as Tristan watched and barked out commands here and there. Though she had only managed to best Dagonet two times over the course of their numerous spars, it was encouraging to know she could at least face a man his size and hold her own against him.

Breck was not surprised when he braced himself to run her over yet again, but managed to dodge him by circling past him. For a split second she was presented with the view of his broad back and quickly formulated her next move. Before he could turn to face her again she lunged after him, using the fact that he was already in forward motion to her advantage and sending them both tumbling to the ground when she crashed into his back. Breck heard the 'oof' that he let out when she landed on his back and dropped her sword to quickly get her hand under his forehead. Then she yanked his head up and pressed her dagger threateningly to his throat.

The knights immediately began cheering and Tristan nodded his approval with a pleased expression when she turned her eyes to him. Breck took a long, calming breath to get her breathing normal again and released Dagonet, patting his head as she got off of his back and stood to her feet. He stood slowly, brushing the dirt off of his clothes and then checking his neck for any cuts to his skin. He raised his eyebrows at her when he pulled his hand back and spotted the blood on his fingers.

"Only a matter of time." He said knowingly with a small smile.

"Arthur! Lancelot!"

Breck and Dagonet turned at Galahad's sudden call and saw Arthur and Lancelot coming through the gate to the arena. Arthur had an impressed look on his face once had reached them but Lancelot went straight to Tristan's side, an awed expression on his face. He took one long, appraising look at Breck and turned a wide grin on Tristan, slapping the man hard on the back.

"Hellion of a woman, she is." Lancelot complimented. "Should you have trouble handling her – "

Lancelot cut himself off abruptly when Tristan turned his head to give him a highly unamused look. He decided that it would obviously be in his better interest to not finish his statement and cleared his throat instead, nodding in acknowledgment of Tristan's silent warning.

"A fine fight." Arthur complimented as he motioned the rest of the knights over.

"Do not be too impressed – this was one of my _few _victories." She admitted, sliding her dagger back into her boot.

Arthur only chuckled and patted her back before gazing at his knights when they filed in around him. Breck could tell immediately that something had shifted in Arthur's demeanor. The man was usually one of three things when going about his daily life – tired, stressed, or stern. Yet currently she could tell he was completely at ease and that there even seemed to be more of a glint to his eyes then usual. It was the happiest and most relaxed she'd seen him since the day their friendship had been rekindled.

"Knights – I shall be blunt." He finally said before holding up a piece of parchment for all of them to see. "I have received word from Rome." He explained, a smile making its way onto his face. The men watched him intently, obviously interested in whatever direction his address was going in. "Bishop Germanus of Rome shall be arriving this next week." Arthur revealed. "Our order is to see him safely to the fort. With him will be a small caravan of soldiers…and your papers of freedom."

There was a surprised silence that hung over the group as Arthur's news processed in their heads, until one by one the men began patting each other on the backs. Of all the things he could have said, the release of the Sarmatians had _not _been what she had expected to hear. She was happy that they would finally be free but could not help to be confused – the knights were being relieved of their duties nearly two weeks ahead of schedule and from what she had understood, the Romans did not stray from their agendas often. And especially not if it concerned the Sarmatian knights that had been serving under them for centuries.

She wondered if Arthur knew the reason behind the turn of events but didn't have a chance to go to him because Galahad and Bors had come over to hug her exuberantly. The other men were still congratulating each other and she glanced over at Tristan, suddenly realizing that she had never taken the time to consider what his freedom might mean for their relationship. The idea of being with him when he was no longer under Roman rule was an exciting one, but Breck still had a mission to complete before they could see where their romance might go. She had a feeling that Tristan would not readily agree to let her stay behind and fight but she would have to try to convince him. He had earned his freedom and he deserved to start living the life he wanted; this was not his battle to fight.

Even though she was overjoyed that her friends would be spared from having to face the Saxon army, it was now a harsh realization to know that now only she, Arthur, and maybe fifty or so Roman soldiers were to protect the Wall. Breck was well aware that the odds were not in their favor; they would be able to use the Wall to their advantage could not hide behind its protection forever. Eventually they would have to face the army and they needed more numbers on their side when they did so. Whether Arthur liked it or not, this was when the Woads would prove to be useful.

The time had come to see Merlin again.

"Come." Arthur urged to the group of them. "Enough sparring for this day – our news requires celebratory drinks." He said before turning to lead everyone off the training grounds.

The men began to file out, still congratulating each other, but Tristan hung back to wait for her while she collected her sword. When she approached he shot a glance behind him, seemingly checking for eavesdroppers, and then faced her again when she came to a stop in front of him. "What do you think of?" Tristan asked, aware that something was on her mind.

"I need to speak with Merlin and soon." She told him, making him nod his head slowly. "As in tonight." He didn't look thrilled with her words but said nothing in argument. "What be the chances that we are allowed passage through the wall?"

"Not in your favor." He informed her. She had suspected this would most likely be the case but frowned regardless.

"Tristan! Breck! Come!" Galahad shouted back at them.

"How do we get past the Wall then?" Breck asked, ignoring her friend.

Tristan began to lead her over to Galahad when their friend began impatiently yelling at them again and shot her a knowing look. "Leave that matter to me." He said confidently.

* * *

Once the sun had gone down and the men had indulged themselves a good deal of alcohol, she and Tristan were able to slip away from their friends without causing too much of a scene. Bors and Lancelot had a few crude comments to make when they spotted Tristan leading her out of the tavern but nobody tried to interfere with them, seemingly believing that they only wanted privacy. Within a half hour they had collected their weapons, readied their horses, and were heading to a side entrance that Breck had previously been unaware of. The poor guards that had been manning the gate (and who were obviously afraid of the Sarmatian) had nearly wet themselves at the forceful words Tristan used to gain them passage, but they were opening the large gate soon enough and with a promise that no one would learn of their journey.

It was just over a two hour journey to the forest that the Woads made camp in and they pushed their horses hard to get there quickly, only having to stop a few times to allow the animals a respite. Though they were not speaking much as they rode, Breck had noticed the pensive look on Tristan's handsome features and could imagine what he might be thinking of right then. She was sure he was curious as to what this meeting was about and knew that he wanted to be informed of why she had come to this arrangement with the Woads in the first place. There were definitely a lot of things they needed to discuss now that they were alone but it would have to wait until after their meeting. Well, assuming Tristan didn't strangle her once he learned of her plan to remain at the Wall and await Cerdic's arrival. If there was one thing she had learned about Tristan, it was that he was not at _all_ fond of her willingness to go headfirst into dangerous situations. And this was a prime example of her 'recklessness'.

They slowed to a trot once the familiar forest was only about half a mile ahead of them and Breck cast another look over at Tristan. Unsurprisingly there was suspicion in his eyes as he watched the forest ahead of them carefully and she moved Lugh closer to him, offering him a small, encouraging smile.

"They trust me." Breck reminded him. "Or I believe they do, anyway." She added as an afterthought.

Tristan only shook his head. "You _believe _they do…" He echoed her words with a disgruntled tone in his voice. "I have dealt with many Woads – they are not trusting of strangers."

Breck frowned at his words. "They were presented ample opportunities to end my life, yet I still live. And I have offered them my information, which is greatly beneficial. Why kill me now?" Breck countered.

Tristan quirked an eyebrow at her. "Opportuni_ties_?" He asked for clarification, a dangerous gleam in his eye at her words.

Breck pursed her lips when he turned a glare back out onto the forest. "Do _not _attempt to kill any Woads." She requested, knowing what the look on his face meant. "I went knowingly into their territory; I brought it on myself."

"I make no promise." Tristan retorted.

Breck leaned over and placed a hand on his arm to draw his attention back to her, giving him a hard stare. "You will if you wish to continue living."

Tristan seemed to think over it for a moment before finally letting out a heave and looking at her wordlessly in defeat. Breck found his protectiveness endearing and ran a hand over his arm in a comforting manner, trying to ease his tension. Tristan watched her for a moment before grasping her hand and bringing it up to his lips, placing a quick kiss to the top of it. The move was an incredibly gentle one on his part and she smiled at the gesture before leaning over for a moment so she could place a quick kiss on his lips, a move he gladly accepted.

"Thank you for accompanying me." Breck said as she settled back onto her saddle properly, liking the way it felt to have him holding her hand in his.

Tristan inclined his head towards her. "You have faced many enemies alone – I will let no such thing happen again."

There was a determination in his gaze that she found to be both comforting and unsettling at the same time. The fact that Tristan was willing to put his own safety at risk just so he could protect her made her feel cherished and safe, but the idea of him putting himself in jeopardy just for her was something she was trying to keep him from doing. Not to mention that the man had just as large of a stubborn streak in him that she did and she was beginning to think it would be downright impossible to convince him to leave Hadrian's Wall without her – his words just now had proven that much to her.

Breck squeezed his hand for a moment before pulling her hand from his. They were nearing the tree line now and she flashed him a smile before digging her heels into Lugh's flanks to make him trot faster, moving in front of Tristan to take the lead.

"If you are seen first, we _will _be killed." Breck said with a teasing smirk, answering the question that was in his gaze as he watched her.

Romance and playful teasing were pushed aside once they were within the confines of the dense forest. Breck fell silent as her eyes searched left and right through the dark surroundings for any sign of the strange people that lived there while Tristan followed close behind her, following her lead. She had purposefully left her hood of her cloak off of her head so that her hair would make her identifiable but found herself wishing that she and Merlin had agreed to a call or something of the sort. Then she would be able to find them faster and the Woads would know it was her coming to speak, not an enemy.

For a half hour they ventured further into the forest, Tristan following directly behind her as she studied the trees. Breck had hoped that there would be landmarks that she might recognize, but it was so dark now and had been so damp and rainy the last time she had passed through that everything looked equally foreign to her. Letting out a huff, she pulled Lugh to a stop and gazed out into the forest for a moment before glancing back at Tristan. His eyes were turned to the right of them and she noticed that he had his bow in his hand now.

"What do you see?" She asked curiously.

He looked over at her before nodding his head to the right. "We are being tracked." He answered steadily, his alert eyes turning back to the forest.

Breck glanced to the right before leading Lugh in the direction Tristan had motioned to. The pursing of his lips led her to believe that he wanted to protest the move on her part but he kept his mouth firmly shut, following her instead with a hard glare fixed onto his face. For a long couple of minutes she was unable to see or hear anything out of the ordinary, but as they continued on through the trees she began to hear a rustle in a bush here or the sound of twigs snapping there, all signs that something was near but unwilling to give away their position.

It didn't take long for her to grow impatient with their antics. "I am the Celt who has passed through these woods previously." She called out loudly. "If you be Woad, show yourself."

She held her breath as she waited for any sign of the thin blue people until finally, after a long stretch of silence, they began to slowly step into view and make their presence known. Within minutes, she and Tristan were surrounded by almost a dozen armed Woad guards and she resisted her instinct to reach for her sword, meeting their gazes steadily. For the most part she was regarded with familiarity, but all of the eyes that were on Tristan looked upon him with obvious distrust and dislike.

"You dare bring the Sarmatian into our home?" One of the men asked scornfully, eyeing Tristan distastefully.

Breck glanced back at a fierce looking Tristan and saw that he was studying each Woad around them, an arrow notched onto his bow despite the fact that he did not have his weapon aimed and at the ready. She knew that if something were to go awry, Tristan would immediately jump into action.

"He is my protection." She answered, turning her attention back to the Woad that had spoken to her. "He does not come with the intent to harm." Probably not completely true, but the Woads did not need to know such things. Deciding it would be best to try and get their attention off of the Sarmatian, she changed the subject. "You ventured into our fort." She continued. "Why?"

The Woad eyed Tristan for one more breath before answering her question. "Merlin bid us to seek you out." He answered. "He wishes to speak with you."

Breck nodded her understanding, having already suspected this to be their reason for coming to Hadrian's Wall. "Will you escort us to him?" The Woad glanced at Tristan and frowned. It was obvious he did not like the idea of the Sarmatian warrior being near his leader and if she was reading his expression correctly, he was contemplating forcing Tristan to stay behind. "If he does not accompany me, I shall not meet with Merlin." Breck said curtly to him.

He regarded her for a long moment before scowling. "Any poor decision on _his _part and you both shall be killed." He threatened, glaring at Tristan for good measure.

"Understood." Breck agreed.

The Woad nodded and then turned on his heel to lead them to the camp, the rest of the guard following after them slowly with the majority of their arrows aimed at Tristan's back.

The Woads, without a shadow of a doubt, knew exactly who Tristan was. The glares that were shot at him as they trotted into their camp and the amount of men and women alike that spat in his direction as they rode by attested to that fact. It was glaringly obvious he was not liked amongst the community of Woads in the slightest and she almost felt bad that she had dragged him into this predicament. So Breck kept her eyes sharp as she and Tristan dismounted their horses, ready to jump into action should anyone attempt to harm him while they were in the camp.

"This way." The Woad instructed, crooking a finger towards them in a motion to follow him.

Breck nodded and grabbed a hold of Lugh's reigns as she followed the Woad. Tristan appeared at her side a moment later, Azia's reigns grasped tightly within his fist, and he walked so close to Breck that his shoulder almost constantly brushed against hers. She glanced up at him and saw that he was studying each Woad that walked into their path suspiciously, his eyes narrowed and calculating.

"Relax." Breck whispered to him.

He only shot her a look that let her know that would _not _be happening.

Merlin was sitting around a campfire when they finally reached him, looking just as dirty and slightly thinner then he had when she had seen him nearly five days ago. The same old men that seemed to always flank Merlin were gathered around the frail looking man and glaring openly at Tristan once he was within view. Tristan observed them for a moment but then turned to her and took Lugh's reigns out of her hand, moving to tie the horses to a nearby tree while Breck stepped forward to greet Merlin.

"Merlin." She greeted him pleasantly, very much aware of the number of guards currently stationed all around them.

"Breck." He said, inclining his head towards her. When Tristan rejoined her and took his place at her side, Merlin met his challenging glare with an unaffected look of his own. It was clear that he was not at all intimidated by the Sarmatian but the slight frown on his lips hinted that he wasn't pleased to see him either. "Your promise is broken." Merlin said, shifting his gaze to her.

Breck sighed and nodded. "Aye, this one has been foregone." She admitted, remembering when she had promise Merlin that no one else would learn from her of their camp's location.

"Why have you brought him?" Merlin questioned.

"You have your guard, Merlin." She reminded him, gesturing to the many armed Woads that stood around them. "He is mine." She continued.

Merlin seemed to ponder her words for a moment, gazing at her steadily, before motioning for her to take a seat across from him. She nodded her thanks and sat on one of the unoccupied logs around the fire, using the heat to warm her hands for a moment. Tristan trailed behind her but he did not take a seat; instead he stood directly behind Breck with his hands clasped together in front of his body and stared unwaveringly at Merlin.

"I was informed you wished to speak with me." Breck prompted after a moment of silence.

"Yes." Merlin nodded in confirmation. "I have mused over your words and our dealings without fail since your departure." He explained in his airy voice. "It is not often we make allegiances with those not of our blood, but I feel as though destiny has brought you to me for a purpose." He revealed, making her eyebrows rise in slight surprise. This was _not _what she had expected to hear from him. "You say Arthur is not my enemy. Explain this to me."

Breck nodded, feeling a bit more encouraged by Merlin's willingness. "Arthur's allegiance is to Rome and he has no choice but to carry out commands bestowed upon him. No Woad death at his hand was out of sport or pleasure, but out of duty." Breck explained. "Just as every Sarmatian death by the hands of your men has been out of duty to your people." She shot added, making some of the Woad men grumble in response.

"Yet we cannot obtain our country due to his hindrance." Merlin reminded her.

"No." Breck shook her head. "_Rome _is the interference in this matter." She corrected. "There is no way to know when Rome shall take its leave of this place, but you already know of the true danger that draws near." She continued on. "Your enemy is the same as mine and as Arthur's – Cerdic and his Saxon army will be upon us and past quarrels will only hinder our hopes of prevailing."

Merlin nodded and turned his gaze into the fire, mulling over her words. Breck did not have the courage to see how Tristan was reacting to the conversation and kept her eyes on Merlin instead, waiting for him to respond. Some of the men around Merlin spoke to him in their language and he counseled with them for a moment before returning his eyes back to her.

"What says Arthur Castus of this matter?"

"We have pledged to slay Cerdic together." Breck told him. "Arthur's desire to see him brought to justice is as great as mine."

Merlin looked at her quizzically and tilted his head, regarding her for a moment. "What is your connection with this man?" He finally asked.

Breck pursed her lips, unsure she should divulge him too much information on that part of her life. The Woads were untrusting enough without being enlightened of her Saxon blood and the truth of her lineage would surely shatter the fragile alliance they currently had. "Tis a personal matter." She finally said. "But know this – I _will _end Cerdic's life."

Merlin nodded and turned his eyes back to the fire. The air around them felt rather tense and she noticed that a few of the Woad guards had become rather fidgety while she and Merlin spoke. Whether it was out of fear of the invading army or out of eagerness to fight, she wasn't sure. She noticed some of the Woads had hard stares locked onto the Sarmatian behind her and she frowned, not liking the way they watched Tristan. The most tension she could feel, however, was rolling off of the man standing behind her and she knew she was going to receive an earful from him once this meeting was over.

"You say we shall only prevail if we side with Arthur and his…" He finally glanced up at Tristan. "…knights. That we will benefit from a truce – you believe this still?"

"Aye." Breck answered. "And a truce is a crucial necessity as of now. The Sarmatians are to be released from their post next week. Then it shall only be Arthur, myself, and any villager or Roman soldier who wishes to defend the Wall. We need your numbers and you need the military experience Arthur has to offer – a truce is only sensible."

"The Sarmatians take their leave?" Merlin asked in surprise.

"Aye." She answered again. "A caravan from Rome comes to deliver their papers of freedom."

Merlin turned his eyes up to Tristan, looking at him curiously. "You willingly leave your woman to fight the Saxons?"

Breck cringed at the question, knowing it would only fuel the irritation that was certainly residing in Tristan. "This is a matter for she and I to discuss." Tristan shot back at him, leaving no room for Merlin to question him further, and Breck winced at the obvious and angry edge to his voice.

Merlin didn't appear too affected by Tristan's tone and returned his gaze back to Breck. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he contemplated his options before he finally let out a long breath and nodded to Breck. "There is truth in your words and determination in your eyes – I trust you. Whether a truce be reached with Arthur Castus or not, you have our support in this war."

The men around him began to protest in their foreign language but Merlin only retorted with a firm tone, immediately silencing them. Breck, on the other hand, began to feel both relieved and excited at Merlin's willingness to fight. "You will join us in our fight?" She asked to clarify.

"Yes."

Breck nodded and smiled, looking at him gratefully. "I cannot thank you enough." She said, standing from her log and reaching towards him with her hand outstretched. Merlin stood as well and shook her hand firmly, sealing their pact. "Your decision is wise."

Merlin released her hand with a nod. "Wise, yet not simple." He responded matter-of-factly. It had to have been a hard decision to trust the stranger that had rode through their forest, but Breck was glad he had chosen not to cast her and her notions of truce aside. "Our scout has travelled north to track the Saxon movement. Any information will be passed along."

"Likewise." Breck promised.

She finally chanced a look back at Tristan and saw that he was standing with his arms crossed now and giving her a look that plainly said how angry he was and how much trouble she was in. She was certain they were going to have some words on the way home and he glared at her for one more moment before going to fetch their horses, signaling he was ready to leave. With a sigh she turned back to Merlin and offered a small smile.

"The hour grows late – we shall take our leave now. My thanks for your hospitality."

Merlin inclined his head to her. "Do you require escort?"

"No." She said with a shake of her head. "We will see each other again." She said before bowing her head slightly in parting and then going to join Tristan, mindful of the watchful eyes of the Woads around them but far more concerned with the anger behind her man's eyes.

He thrust the reigns into her hand with a sour expression but said nothing in the presence of the Woads. Not that he needed to; his expression said it all. He turned away from her, pulling himself up onto his horse, and Breck pursed her lips before following suit. She avoided meeting Tristan's eyes for the moment as she waved to Merlin and then turned Lugh around to leave, ready to leave and get this berating over with.

Tristan rode up beside her as they made their way through the Woad camp and even through his beard she could see him clenching his jaw. "We have _much _to discuss." He growled for only her to hear.

"Aye." She agreed meekly. "That we do."

* * *

**A/N: OH. MY. GOD. This chapter seriously gave me the MOST MOTHER EFFING TROUBLE. Can you feel my frustration? Argh! So sorry about the lull between chapters and sorry if this sucked!**

**By the way, methinks I have a TON of silent readers. The amount of views I have for this story is off the charts. Anonymous reviews are being accepted now so feel free to show me the love! **


	27. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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Breck kept her mouth firmly shut as Tristan led the way back through the forest. He had yet to say anything to her but she knew he was waiting until they were clear of the Woads' territory to start reprimanding her. It briefly occurred to her that she could have been attempting to plead her case to him but they had argued with each other enough times by now for her to know it would do her no good. Anything she would have to say would only make him angrier then he already was. And he was _beyond _angry with her at that moment, that much was blatantly obvious.

Once they had cleared the tree-line, Tristan veered off to the left and headed for a small pond in the distance. Breck followed after him slowly, turning her eyes up to the sky to try and determine what time it may be. Judging by how high the moon was it had to be close to midnight by now and she knew they would need to get back before the knights realized that they weren't anywhere in the fort, but it appeared Tristan was preparing to give her a piece of his mind and that they were going to hash it out here and now before they went any further.

He dismounted Azia as she and Lugh approached and patted his mare's neck before ushering her over to the pond. He didn't have to say anything or even give her a look for her to know she needed to follow his suit and she held her breath as she slid off of Lugh's back and onto her own two feet. Lugh blocked Tristan from her sight for a moment and she scratched behind her horse's ears, leaning in close.

"Should he kill me, know my love for you runs very deep." She whispered in his ear in the Gaelic language Tristan couldn't understand. Lugh snorted at her and then trotted away to join Azia, leaving her to face Tristan.

In any other instance she would have taken the time to admire how the moonlight highlighted his handsome features, but the evident anger radiating off of him had her watching him warily, unsure of just what he had in store for her. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest a few feet away from her and though he had masked his anger just the slightest, it was more then obvious that he was not happy with her. She remembered the days when Tristan had been impossible to read and actually yearned for it to still be the case in this moment. He was making her feel two inches tall with his obvious disapproval and she almost felt ashamed of herself for having disappointed him.

"Do the other men know of this?" He finally asked after a long stretch of silence.

"No. Only Arthur."

"And why did you not tell _me_?" Tristan pried further.

Breck frowned and crossed her own arms, mimicking his pose. She knew when she spoke that she needed to choose her words carefully. "It was not for lack of trust." She assured him. "I merely did not wish to trouble you." She answered, which wasn't a complete lie but also not the entire truth.

Tristan quirked his eyebrow at her, looking completely unconvinced. "_Trouble me_?" He repeated lowly, his brows furrowing as he watched her. "Saxons come for Hadrian's Wall while you wish to remain and fight." He gruffly reminded her of her own plan. "And you did not wish to _trouble me_?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Did you believe I would not eventually learn of your plan? And do you not take my opinion on this matter into consideration?"

Breck sighed and ran a hand through her hair anxiously, looking away from his piercing gaze for a moment. "If you recall, I informed you that you would know in due time."

"When? Once the Saxons were on our doorstep?" Tristan shot back.

"My secret was kept with good intentions." She tried to defend herself.

Tristan obviously did not think her excuse to be acceptable, judging by the cross look on his face. "Good intentions or not, an army comes for the Wall and it was not your place to withhold such information." Tristan reprimanded. "Tell me this was not a decision made by selfish reasoning."

"Selfish reasoning?" She asked in disbelief. "Of course not." Breck retorted angrily.

Truth be told, she wasn't entirely certain. The whole reason she had kept this information was because she was looking after the best interest of Tristan and the men. She had been doing what she could to keep them from becoming involved, but in turn had ended up causing even more of a ruckus with her secrecy. Could such an act be considered selfish? She thought back to the issue with Gerland and how neither Tristan nor Arthur had told her of him until she had figured it out on her own. Though that situation was not as dire as the one at hand, the concept was the same – she had been kept in the dark so as not to worry over it.

Breck took a calming breath and then continued talking. "Tristan, you have withheld secrets from me in the past so as not to cause me turmoil." She reminded him. "And I have done so now to avoid causing you the same stress. This was my only motivation in keeping you uninformed."

Silence fell between them for a few moments until Tristan shook his head in agitation, mulling over her words for a long moment before he finally spoke again. "Tell me of your journey." He demanded. "How did you come to know of this invasion?"

The only person she had gone into detail with about her trip had been Arthur, and even _he _did not know the full story. Tristan had seen her kill before but what would be his reaction when he learned that she had tortured the information from the Saxons and then left them as a message to Cerdic? He was already angry and she was positive it would only make matters worse once he knew she had taunted Cerdic into coming for her. She debated not telling him but decided that if she kept any more secrets from him, it might cause irreparable damage to their relationship.

"My journey was to Alban, where my contact has long resided." She finally said. "As you know already, the Woads allowed me free passage at my offer of information on the Saxons. Further north, I encountered a group of villagers that were fleeing from the Mortlach and bearing news of the Saxons' impending arrival. All I learned from them was their intent to control the whole of the island. I did not learn the Wall was their target until after hunting down a Saxon scouting party and torturing the information out of them myself."

If Tristan was surprised to hear of the measures she'd resorted to in order to get the details she wanted, he didn't show it. Instead he frowned and shot her a disgruntled look. "You did this alone?"

"No." She answered. "I was in the company of my contact and the village guard."

This seemed to appease him a bit because his expression lost a little of its intensity, but she knew their argument was far from being over. He was pensive again as her words processed in his head before turned his focus back to her. "You said before the Saxons are unpredictable – will their target change?"

Breck gulped and shook her head. "I believe not." She answered hesitantly, knowing what she was about to say was probably going to push Tristan over the edge. "Before I took my leave, I left a message for Cerdic to find – he knows I am at the Wall and believe when I say he _will _seek me out."

Tristan's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Breck, do you understand what you have done?" He asked harshly. "You have given yourself to him on a silver platter." He growled. "You taunt him into coming for you when you have hardly a defense against him. How did you believe this a good plan?" He demanded of her, the anger working its way back plainly onto his face. "How could you be so careless?"

"It needed to be done." She finally defended.

He scoffed, looking at her disbelievingly. "You say this often. I begin to doubt the truth behind these words." Tristan snapped challengingly.

"It _is _the truth." Breck responded firmly. "My hunt for him has stretched for far too long of a period. I tire of running from country to country, constantly on the chase yet unable to fulfill my oath." She explained to him, her voice rising. "With every person who dies by his blade, my mission continues to fail. It cannot be so anymore. I found my opportunity to end this and I have seized it." Breck took a moment to calm herself and breathed in deeply. "Careless though my actions may be, I have never been closer to avenging my family. I refuse to stand down now."

Tristan watched her for a long moment, taking in her words, before he squared off his shoulders with a determined expression. Breck was sure she knew exactly what the determination on his face meant. "You wished for a war and a war you have received. But it will not be one you fight alone."

Her heart dropped into her stomach at his words and she immediately shook her head. "Tristan – "

"I stay to fight." He interrupted firmly.

"You _will _leave." She commanded, pointed at him threateningly.

He didn't appear too affected by her attempted intimidation. "And abandon you and Arthur to the mercy of the Saxons? No." He argued. "I will be by your side when Cerdic arrives and I _will _assist you in slaying him."

This was the exact thing that Breck had been trying to avoid. Couldn't Tristan see that she was only attempting to protect him? Killing anyone that Breck ever dared to love seemed to be Cerdic's greatest talent – if he were to harm Tristan in any way, she would not only never forgive herself but was sure it would destroy her.

"You do not understand – " Breck tried to reason with him.

"_You _do not – " He began to retort.

"Tristan, I cannot lose you!" She finally hollered at him.

Tristan immediately cut off his rant and Breck took in a heaving breath, suddenly unsure of what she should say next. He obviously knew that she cared for him and they had known without saying it that they were involved with only each other, but Breck had yet to vocally express just _how _deep her feelings for him truly ran.

"I…" She struggled to find the right words before sighing. "I cannot. Not to him or to anyone."

"Breck…" Tristan said slowly.

"He has taken everything from me." Breck cut in harshly. "My father, my mother, my unborn sibling – any semblance of a normal life was forgone because of his cruelty. I did not know happiness until I arrived hereand it pains me enough knowing Arthur puts himself in such grave danger, but you as well?" She shook her head, beginning to pace as the words she'd kept bottled up began tumbling out of her mouth on their own accord. "I am at a complete loss with this." She admitted, motioning between the two of them. "I have only ever known hatred and vengeance, Tristan, and believe that it was _not_ my plan to come here and fall in love. And I know not of what the future holds for us or what is expected of me and…" she heaved, throwing her hands in the air, "If anything happened to you I would not survive it. I only wish for you to be away from this madness so you are granted the opportunity to be free and return home and live the life you wish."

Breck stopped pacing and blabbering away as she realized that she had not only finally poured her heart out to Tristan but that she had also just told him that she loved him. He was standing across from her, completely still, but now with a stunned look on his face. He seemed to have been taken off guard by her sudden confession and was silent for a few excruciatingly long moments as her words processed in his head. She, on the other hand, was beginning to feel uneasy with the declarations she'd just unloaded on him. He cared about her, but what if he didn't love her? What if she had just ruined everything? Why was the man choosing to revert back to his old, quiet ways _now_ of all times?

Tristan finally stepped towards Breck and came to a halt once he was directly in front of her. He wordlessly reached for her hands, grasping onto both of them with his own and staring at them for a long moment before meeting her gaze again. Her speech was obviously making the the anger melt away from him and in its place came a softer expression that she had once thought she would never see from him.

"I am as unfamiliar with romance as you." He admitted. "Nor did I believe myself capable of…_love_. But know that my home is here now, with _you_, Breck. I care not about Sarmatia or Romans or the Woads – my sole concern is _you_. I shall do what I must to protect this." He explained, gesturing between them despite still holding onto her hands. "Because I shall never lead the life I please if you be not in it." Tristan concluded firmly, his eyes pleading with her to understand what he was saying to her.

She released his hands to place them on either side of his neck and sighed. How was she supposed to deny him what he wanted after a speech like _that_? "There be no convincing you otherwise?" Breck asked in defeat.

"No." Tristan said firmly with a shake of his head, grasping her by the waist and pulling her closer.

Breck thought back to how protective he had always been of her and tilted her head as she studied him, pushing his messy hair from his forehead so she could see his handsome face better. "Was it _ever _your intention that I would face him alone?" She asked pointedly.

"No." He repeated.

She sighed and nodded, accepting that Tristan had made up his mind and that there would be no way to persuade him to leave – he was going to stay and fight whether she liked it or not. Now the burning question that was rolling around in her head had to be asked and Breck searched his eyes intently as she spoke. "Do you love me?"

Tristan hesitated for a moment before nodding his head slowly. "Yes."

Breck could tell that his confession had not been an easy one to make. Tristan had lived a life much like she had; full of death and bloodshed and dim hope of a normal life. Yet somehow, through all the madness and when they had least expected it, they had found one another. Like her, he had believed himself incapable of feeling the sorts of emotions that they reserved purely for each other and their romance was a thing that neither had been prepared for. And though they were both unfamiliar with the path they'd chosen, she could not help but feel it was all apart of God's plan for her and it was a comfort to know she was not alone.

"And I love you." She responded earnestly.

Tristan wasted no time swooping down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She sighed against his warm lips, returning his tight embrace when he held her to him as though he were afraid she would disappear. The kiss deepened, their tongues desperately becoming reacquainted with each other, and she was sure her heart was going to explode out of her chest as his hands slid along her back and sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Breck pulled away from his lips when she desperately needed air but found herself incapable of breathing properly when his lips instead travelled along her jaw to smother her neck with attention, the scratch of his beard and feel of his lips on her sensitive skin caused her fingernails to dig into the material of his clothes.

Her breath hitched in her throat at his ministrations and though he was awakening a need within her that no other ever had, her nervousness over where this might lead began to gnaw away at her. Would she disappoint him? Was she even _ready_ for a step of this magnitude? She trusted Tristan completely, and by _God _she wanted him, but tonight did not feel like the night to take their relationship in that direction.

"Tristan…" She had tried to say his name with more command in order to gain his attention, but it came out far more breathless then she had intended it to and it only caused Tristan to bring his lips to hers again with renewed fervor. Breck was lost in his kiss for a long moment before she finally placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him far enough away so she could meet his gaze. "We should…return to the Wall." She said slowly, giving him a regretful look.

Tristan's breathing was harder then usual as he stared at her, his desire for her obvious behind his darkened eyes, but then he slowly nodded before leaning in to give her a lingering kiss. "We should." He agreed, though his voice was huskier then usual. After he pressed one last kiss to her forehead he turned to go and fetch Azia, running a hand through his hair in a very uncharacteristic way as he went. She immediately regretted the loss of his touch and his kiss but trailed after him anyway, grasping Lugh's reigns once she was close enough.

Tristan was already pulling himself atop of Azia, his hair more wild then usual thanks to her fingers, and she grinned at the sight he presented. Tristan was handsome, loyal, and a fierce warrior – and he was hers. She could help but touch her still tingling lips with a small smile before walking over to him. "Tristan?" Breck called, making him look down at her. "May I join you?" She asked before looking pointedly at his saddle.

Tristan offered a rare smile and wordlessly reached down to her. Breck grinned and slipped her hand into his, using the leverage he provided to haul herself up onto Azia. She settled on the saddle in front of Tristan, a little bashful as his body seemed to mold to hers but content to be back within the warm, protective confines of his arms. His right hand came to rest on top of her leg and she pushed back the blush this touch threatened to bring on, instead concentrating on tying Lugh's reigns to Tristan's saddle. Once the task was completed Breck leaned back against his chest and settled into a comfortable position, smiling when she felt him press a kiss to her shoulder.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Aye." She said before looking at him over her shoulder. "Are you angry still?"

"Furious." Tristan responded matter-of-factly. "Yet I forgive you."

"Thank you." She said. Then Breck pressed a quick kiss against his bearded cheek and then turned her eyes forward, smiling to herself over the change of events. What she had been sure would end up causing a huge rift between her and Tristan had ended up causing them to confess the true depth of their feelings for one another. Breck had never thought in a million lifetimes that Tristan would fall in love with her, let alone _tell _her so, but the man had never been predictable and this night only proved it.

"Keep no more secrets from me." Tristan demanded in her ear.

"I shan't." She assured him. "I promise."

* * *

Most of the ride was spent conversing quietly with one another, talking about the places they had been, things they had seen, and revealing private details of their pasts to each other. He was showing a side of him that Breck had not known existed; a side that was slightly gentler then the rough exterior he presented on a daily basis and one that she was sure was only reserved for her. Riding through the open plains of Briton wrapped up in the protective arms of the man she loved was something she had never experienced before and it left her feeling more relaxed than she had felt in years, and she could hardly remember a time since her father's passing that she had been this content. There was still much to be done and her troubles were far from over, but despite her earlier trepidations it felt _right _that Tristan would be by her side.

They arrived back at the wall late into the night (or extremely early in the morning) and by that point Breck had begun to doze off against his chest, her head tucked under his chin as he led them through the desolate streets of the fort and towards the stables. She had wanted to stay awake and take full advantage of the privacy they were rarely granted, but the soothing rumble of his voice in her ear as he spoke had only caused to make her relax further and eventually begin to lose her battle against her exhaustion.

"Breck." Tristan said quietly in her ear. "You must wake."

She lifted her head sleepily, trying to blink away her tiredness and looked around at the familiar sights of the stables. "Home." She said thankfully, dreaming of her bed already as she felt Tristan move behind her and dismount the saddle. Breck went to follow suit and smiled at him gratefully he planted his hands firmly on her waist to help her down.

She yawned widely as Tristan began to undo Azia's saddle and then moved to do the same for Lugh, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles before setting to work on the buckles. As soon as Lugh was free of his saddle she led him into his stall, pressing a tired kiss to his nose before closing the stall door then heading to hang his saddle with all of the others. She took a moment to stretch out her tired limbs and then smiled sleepily at Tristan when he came to deposit his own saddle on the rack.

"You need rest." He stated as he eyed her, taking in the fact that she was practically asleep on her feet.

"Aye." Breck agreed with a nod. "Come, escort your woman back to her quarters."

She thought she saw a smile flicker across his face at her words but was too sleepy to be sure and looped her arm through his. He gladly accepted her and let her lean on him as they left the stables to head towards their rooms, only pausing to close and lock the doors behind them.

Despite their massive argument, Breck found herself wishing that the night would never end. It wasn't often that she and Tristan were awarded these private moments and there would not be very many opportunities left for them to be together like this – soon the knights would have to leave to collect the Bishop and then not long after that it would be time to fight the Saxons. And knowing Tristan, any spare moment in between would be spent preparing themselves for the battle ahead.

"Arthur should be updated." Tristan said quietly as they neared the quarters.

"Mhmm." Breck agreed sleepily, fighting off another yawn.

"About the Woads as well." He added pointedly.

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, barely able to keep her eyes open at this point. "He will murder us should he learn of our trip." She reminded him. "I will conjure an excuse for our knowing of their involvement."

Breck was only alert to her surroundings again when they came to a halt outside of her quarters. She sighed happily at the thought of her bed and then turned a smile on Tristan, pulling her arm out from his so she could place her hands on his shoulders and give him a quick kiss goodnight. When she made to pull away he wrapped a hand into her hair and kept her in place, kissing her for a few moments longer before finally releasing her.

"Rest. I will see you in the morning." He said, nodding to her door.

Breck nodded and smirked at him. "It _is _the morning." She teased before she slid her hands down his arms until she could clasp his hands, wanting to stow the memory of tonight deep into her thoughts so that she would never forget it.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she finally stepped away from him, trying to keep a hold of his hands for as long as she could but breaking away when she could no longer reach him. She waved one last time and then turned to open her door, feeling his eyes on her back the entire time. Breck turned to wave goodbye once she was in her room and he raised a hand in return, only leaving once she had finally closed her door.

As she changed, her mind replayed the night's events over and over. The Woads were going to fight (which was a huge relief), Tristan was going to stay at the Wall despite being granted his freedom (which was oddly relieving considering she hadn't wanted him fighting to begin with), and now they knew that they loved one another. Her time with him was one she had never experienced before and felt completely surreal. She had never dreamed that anything like this could be possible for her and now it was a very real promise.

If this was the life that awaited her after Cerdic was taken care of, she would gladly welcome it with open arms.

* * *

**A/N: Are you alive? Are you breathing? Are you drowning in fluff-balls?**

**I know it's a bit mushy for Tristan, but mushy circumstances call for a mushier Tristan. And how could he not be after the massive, heart-felt speech he was awarded from his woman? **

**Anyway…thoughts? **

**P.S. We're almost into the movie, which means this story is almost coming to a close. I predict we have about another six or seven chapters to go. Sad? I am!**


	28. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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_Kenrick roared, swishing his sword here and there, slicing limbs and heads alike. The number of Saxons that had flowed out from the surrounding forest counted to just over a dozen now and though Kenrick had received a number of wounds on his own body, it did not stop the large man from taking down opponent after opponent. It was obvious by the animalistic battle cries leaving his mouth that he was driven by rage and some of the ambushing Saxons hesitated in their attack, watching Kenrick unsurely._

_Breck still sat in the wagon and stared down at the arrow in her shoulder, her small fingers wrapping around the wood protruding from her body before she gritted her teeth and slowly pulled it out. The child cried out with the pain of the speared arrow sliding from her body and it alerted Kenrick at once, making him pause just long enough to be swarmed by a number of Saxons. _

"_Father!" Breck screeched, her concern for him making her forget her pain as she jumped to her feet, watching as he tried valiantly to fend them off._

_He was slowly gaining the upper hand again and was making his way towards her, pausing to head-butt an oncoming foe before quickly turning to his right and bringing his sword up to block the blow coming for his head. She looked around the wagon for anything, any form of weapon that she could use to help her father. Breck tried to push back the tears that came to her eyes when they glanced over the form of her mother and saw that two more arrows had imbedded themselves into her torso, ending the woman's life. Breck was reaching a hand out to her when an arm came around her neck, beginning to choke off her air supply. Her eyes bugged and she scratched viciously at the man's arms but to no avail. She was yanked backwards so her attacker could get a better grip on her and she was just beginning to see black spots when his grip slackened. _

_The six year old fell forward onto her hands and gulped for air, turning her head to see that her father had come to her rescue and was now fighting directly in front of the wagon, defending his family the best he could. There was no way to know if the Saxon knew what had become of his wife, but he pressed on with a vengeance regardless. Once Breck caught her breath she continued her search around the wagon until she found the quiver of arrows and her father's hunting bow on the other side of Emer. With a sob she reached over her dead mother and grabbed the weapon. She had barely begun her archery lessons and the bow was far too large for the six year old child but she managed to get a grip on it and notch a clumsy arrow, intent on doing something – anything – she could to help Kenrick. _

_Pulling the string back as far as she could, she watched as the arrow flew forward and caught a Saxon in the leg, stilling his movement to bring his weapon down on her father as he let out a howl of pain. Kenrick was able to turn and slide his blade clean into his stomach before yanking it back out and swinging it down on the next Saxon attacker. _

"_Keep shooting!" Kenrick called to her. _

_Breck fumbled for another arrow, blinking her tears back rapidly to try and clear her vision, before notching it and taking aim at another Saxon. She gulped, trying to steady her heaving breath and calm her shaking hands, before releasing the arrow. It barely nicked his shoulder, causing him to growl and turn in her direction. She panicked, loaded another arrow, and planned to shoot again but was shoved down to the floor of the wagon before she could, her father being the one to make sure she was out of the line of fire as two arrows went sailing overhead. _

"_Take it." Kenrick said, shoving the hilt of a long dagger into her hands before turning back around with a wide swing of his sword and beheading the Saxon that had come charging up... _

When she opened her eyes it took a long moment for Breck to realize that, first, she was in her bed and _not _on that God forsaken road being swarmed by Saxons and, second, that it was the knocking on her door that had roused her from her sleep and the dream. Her heart rate began to slow as she wiped the sweat from her forehead, her mind still plagued by the harsh memories of that night, and she sat up slowly in bed to rub her eyes tiredly.

The knocking on her door continued and she finally dragged herself from her bed, fixing her shift that had become entangled around her legs like a cocoon. She was positive she had not gotten enough sleep to be fully energized and her body felt heavy and tired, both from her late night with Tristan and from the restless few hours of rest she _had _obtained – Breck sincerely hoped that whoever had come calling on her had a very good reason for doing so. Otherwise they were about to feel her wrath.

Devran was standing on the other side when she jerked the door open and Breck blinked at him in confusion. "Devran? Why have you come?" She asked, trying to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Jols wished me to remind that you yourself admitted to have been neglecting your duties and promised to be present in the stables this morning." He said, looking up at the sky in concentration as he recounted the message he had been sent with. "And your presence is required. Now." He finished before smiling at her.

Breck suddenly remembered the slightly inebriated promise she had made to the man a few nights ago and pinched the bridge of her nose before nodding. "Tell him I will be along shortly." She said before wordlessly closing the door in the boy's face. She might have felt guilty for her dismissal but was in far too foul of a state to care at that moment.

She rubbed her forehead with a heave and walked over to her trunk to get out a fresh set of clothes, pausing to lean against the sturdy furniture and close her eyes with a steadying breath. Dreams about the night of the Saxon ambush had been happening more frequently and she knew it was because Cerdic was so close to being within her grasp. The images she had tried to bury long ago stubbornly continued to resurface in her mind and Breck winced as she remembered the empty, lifeless stare that had replaced the usual warmth and kindness in her mother's eyes. Despite going to bed with the warm, contented feeling of being in love, now she only felt hatred and anger and cursed Cerdic loudly while she tried to push the gruesome images of her dead mother out of her mind. If her subconscious was attempting to remind her in her love-struck state that there was still business to be done, Breck had received the message clearly.

Breck finally opened her eyes once she had reigned in her emotions and yanked her trunk open, pulling out the first tunic and pair of trousers she spotted. When she pulled off her shift to dress for the day, her eyes darted down to her right shoulder where a cross-like scar resided just below her collar bone, marking the spot where the Saxon arrow had pierced her as a child. It had been her first serious wound and she ran a fingertip over it for a moment, almost positive she could still feel the pain from it even to this day. For the longest time she had hated it because of the memories it brought forth, but eventually it had grown to hold great importance – every time that she looked upon it she was reminded of the night that had forever changed the course of her life. Breck had been forced to endure things that no child should have to face, and the scar ensured that she never forgot her mission or why it was so important to see it through.

The previous night with Tristan had been a welcome distraction from all of the madness in her life but with Cerdic face floating around in her mind, she knew it was time to resume with her business as usual now. Breck didn't have much more time to train with Dagonet (the knights would be leaving to collect the Bishop in four days) and she still needed to sit Arthur down to attempt to talk sense into him regarding the Woads. A plan had to be made, they needed to prepare, and she needed to make Arthur accept that the Woads would be fighting with them whether he liked it or not.

As soon as she was dressed and her hair was braided into a hastily done plait, she was out the door and headed to stables. Unsurprisingly she had slept far into the morning after staying up late with Tristan and the town was bustling as she made her way through the throng of crowds. She waved to those who greeted her, but each smiling face only caused her to sink further and further into her foul mood. It almost felt burdensome to be one of the few who knew that the generally peaceful atmosphere of Hadrian's Wall was on the verge of being disrupted with the turmoil of war. Soon all of these people would be fleeing from the fort to escape the beast coming for them – and only she, Arthur, and now Tristan knew it.

"Should you not be working?" A voice said in her ear at the same time a person fell into step next to her.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear him approach and she jumped about a mile into the air before swinging stunned eyes up to the amused face of Arthur. "Arthur?" She asked in surprise before punching him in the arm with a scowl. "Do you wish me dead from fright? Announce your presence." Breck grumbled grumpily.

"I was shouting your name." Arthur defended, rubbing his shoulder and giving her a disgruntled look. "Had you not been daydreaming you might have heard."

"My apologies." Breck said, glancing at the stables that they were nearing and seeing an impatient looking Jols hanging in the doorway. "What brings you here?"

"I wished to speak with you and assumed I would find you here." He said, motioning to the stables. "You are just now arriving?"

"I overslept." Breck excused with a shrug.

"Yes, well…" Arthur trailed off as his gaze dropped down to her neck and he furrowed his eyebrows in a studious manner for a moment before casting her a stern stare. Breck looked at him strangely in return, unsure why he was regarding her in such a way. "I see there is no need to question your whereabouts this night past. It appears things have..._progressed _with Tristan." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Pardon?" Breck asked, quirking an eyebrow. What was he blabbering about?

Arthur pointed in the general direction of her neck knowingly, a teasing smirk just hinting at the corner of his mouth. "You pair became…_better acquainted_?"

Breck blushed and brought a hand up to cover her neck, realizing that Tristan's lips must have left behind a mark in their enthusiasm the previous night. She had seen them before on the men and had always thought it to be in bad taste. And since she was already in an unpleasant state that morning because of her memories, the knowledge of its presence mixed with Arthur's teasing only catered to her ill temper. "I fail to see how that is your business." She shot back at him.

Arthur ignored her biting retort and pursed his lips, now looking a little uncomfortable as he took a step closer and dropped his voice to avoid being overheard. "You…_are _being sensible…correct?" He asked slowly, looking like he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer or not.

Breck tried gallantly to reign in her annoyance at his prying. The last thing she wanted was to stand in the middle of the fort and discuss her and Tristan's physical relationship with her life-long friend. "I am a grown woman – I may do what I please with my man." She defended haughtily. "But if you _must_ know the status of my purity, it is still completely intact."

He seemed relieved at her words and offered her a lopsided smile, his mood shifting quickly. "He is your man now?" He questioned next, his eyebrows inching up on his forehead while he looked highly pleased with this information.

Having grown tired of his questioning and wishing to keep her and Tristan's relationship as private as she could, she rolled her eyes and shot her friend and impatient look. "Arthur, for God's sake, what is the purpose that brought you here? Speak before Jols has me strung up by my thumbs." Breck demanded, gesturing to the man that was staring her down.

"Steady now, friend." Arthur said as he held a hand up in defeat. Then he wiped the grin off his face and a more serious aura surrounded him as he changed the subject of conversation. "We have little time to devise our plan for Cerdic." He reminded her. "Will you have council with me this day?"

"Aye, I will. It was my intention to propose such an idea to you myself." Breck readily agreed. "I must fulfill my duties here and then collect Tristan - then my attention is yours."

"Tristan? He knows of the Saxons?" Arthur asked in confusion. When Breck nodded, he looked a little bemused. "What of keeping this a secret?"

Breck only shrugged at him. "Given the nature of our relationship, secrecy between us is no longer allowed." She told him. "But his knowledge brings on no changes in his course. It was never his intention to leave the Wall if I remained – his plan all along has been to assist me with Cerdic."

"I might have known." Arthur said with a shake of his head, not looking anymore thrilled then she felt with the fact that Tristan would remain at the Wall to fight. He let out a heave before waving to Jols and then pushing her in the direction of the stables. "I will keep you from your duties no longer. I shall be in the council room whenever you and Tristan are prepared to meet with me."

Breck nodded. "I shall meet with you later, then." She said, waving to him over her shoulder.

"And Breck?" He said as an afterthought. When she turned to face him, waiting to hear whatever he had to say, he offered her a genuine smile. "I am happy for you and Tristan." He said honestly. "I can think of no two others who deserve happiness more."

Though she had been in a foul mood all morning, Arthur's approval of the match made a real smile creep onto her face and Breck nodded at him in thanks. After Arthur returned the gesture, she turned to head to the stables. Jols looks like he wanted to lecture her but stopped himself when Breck shook her head and held a hand up. "_Not_ today." She warned him, then continued inside to start her work as usual.

* * *

By the time they had finished up in the stables, Breck's stomach was growling with hunger and her body was protesting its current state of exhaustion. Even though it was only mid-afternoon she was already beginning to have longing thoughts of the bed that awaited her in her quarters and could hardly wait until the moment she could be sleeping again. Knowing that Arthur was waiting for her, Breck resisted the temptation to go and nap for a few hours and instead nicked a few apples from the horses to have a quick meal. Then she was heading out to search for Tristan.

She spotted a familiar trio as she neared the tavern and smiled to herself, walking over to them. "Good afternoon, gents." Breck said as she walked up to Lancelot, Gawain, and Galahad.

"Why there you are." Lancelot said in greeting, scooping up her hand to press a kiss to the back of it. "The prodigal Celt shows her face again." Lancelot said laying the charm on thick.

"Kiss her arse any more and your lips will freeze into a pucker." Gawain said, shoving Lancelot on the shoulder playfully and making the dark haired Sarmatian scowl. "How goes your day?"

"It goes." Breck said with a sigh. "And yours?"

"A bore." Galahad groaned, drawing out the word dramatically.

"Are you to join us for a spot of dinner?" Lancelot cut in. Then he tilted his head and studied her for a long moment, his eyebrows rising while he regarded her. "You look terrible. I believe I could break you across my knee like a twig – you need meat on your bones."

"As always, your compliments are _too _flattering." She grumbled sarcastically, taking a large bite of the apple and chewing obnoxiously for him to see. Lancelot pulled a face and shook his head in disapproval. His eyes dropped down to her neck a moment later and she fought the blush that threatened her cheeks, knowing he had seen the mark on her neck.

"You seem exhausted." Gawain pointed out.

"I am." Breck confirmed. She moved her braid to her left shoulder in an attempt to conceal the mark on her neck, praying that Lancelot would say nothing about it but knowing it was a fool's hope. "I did not sleep much this night past."

As if Lancelot had finally heard the cue he'd been waiting for, a lecherous grin spread across his face at the same time a devilish glint appeared in his eye. "And just _why _might that be?" Lancelot asked knowingly. She shot him a look that clearly told him to shut his mouth but he ignored it. "You and Tristan disappeared for a _very _long time. Could the reason have any involvement with this?" He asked before flicking her braid away and moving the collar of her tunic to get a better look at the mark Tristan had left on her neck. Breck immediately blushed and swatted his hand away, making the three men laugh heartily. Once he sobered up, Lancelot tsked at her teasingly. "Worry not – I do not judge."

"You _cannot _judge – I have witnessed you in far more scandalous conditions." Breck shot at him, shoving his shoulder.

"Jealous?" Lancelot smirked.

Breck rolled her eyes to the heavens, wondering at the man's abundance of self-confidence, and then gave him a bored look. "Excruciatingly so." She said sarcastically.

He grinned to himself despite her mocking tone. "I knew your want truly lay with me." He said knowingly.

Breck was all too aware of the fact that once Lancelot got going, it was almost impossible to stop his nonsensical blabbering. Today she simply did not have the patience or mental capacity to deal with his incessant flirting and she shot Galahad and Gawain helpless looks. It only served to make them snicker behind their fists. "Do you know Tristan's whereabouts?" She asked, changing the topic of the conversation.

"You are insatiable – now it is _I _who is jealous." He said with a raunchy wink. When she glared at him, highly unamused with the way he was talking to her, he finally raised his hands in defeat and nodded to her in a conceding manner. "He and Dag went to train. Start your search there."

"My thanks. We have business with Arthur so I will take my leave. Enjoy your meals." She told them in parting. After they had said their goodbyes she continued on, but paused when an idea popped into her head. "Oh, and Lancelot?" Breck called warningly as an afterthought, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Think wisely on the words you say regarding my personal affairs or Tristan shall hunt you down."

The mixed look of horror and uneasiness was the exact effect she had been hoping for had her feeling quite triumphant the entire way to the training arena. Though Breck knew that Lancelot's advances were harmless and only out of good fun, there were not many people who could get the upper hand on him in a bout of words. Breck took great pride in being one of those few and she found it incredibly satisfying to watch the silver-tongued Sarmatian squirm.

As promised, when Breck neared the training grounds she could already hear the clang of swords clashing into one another. The closer she came to the fenced in arena, the better she could make out the two figures of Tristan and Dagonet and she paused at the gate to lean against it and watch them. Whenever Dagonet was paired up with her there was usually a fair bit of taunting and exchanging of words, but as he and Tristan battled there was only silence and concentrated looks on both of their parts. The bout looked fairly intense and she watched the two skilled fighters spar with interest, her eyes drinking in their moves to try and memorize them for later use.

Clearly, Tristan had the upper hand in this bout. He moved fast, striking this way and that, and forcing Dagonet to hastily block all of his blows. Tristan dodged the bigger man when he charged him and then resumed his attack once they were facing each other again. Breck could not help but admire the seemingly effortless way that Tristan maneuvered around Dagonet, his quick and graceful movements seeming a little contradictory to the rough, powerful slashes of his blade. One would think his feet were moving to the steps of a dance rather then partaking in a battle.

Breck finally pushed through the gate when Tristan bested Dagonet, swiping the man across the arm with his blade before he pressed the metal of his sword against the healer's throat. Dagonet began grumbling as they parted, eyeing the cut that Tristan had given him, but the scout only looked at him with a smugly satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth and readied his sword to start again. Breck felt her foul mood melt away the nearer she came to the man she'd parted with only some half a day ago and began to feel at ease for the first time that day just by being in his company.

"Dag, do we keep you from your priorities?" Breck called to gain their attention.

Dagonet smiled and shrugged at her, looking a bit relieved that she had interrupted their session, while Tristan dropped from his defensive stance at once and turned to face her. He did not come to kiss her or anything of the sort but he did have the tiniest of smiles hinting on his lips as she neared them and that was enough for her. She flashed him a quick smile once she came to stand in front of them before turning her attention to the healer when he spoke. "No need to worry, there are no patients. Even so I no longer work alone. Should anyone need attention, the new healer is there to help."

"A new healer?" Breck asked in surprise.

Dagonet nodded. "Seeing as we are to be released, Arthur saw fit to acquire another healer – in case my path takes me away from the Wall, I would suspect." He explained.

"Sensible." Breck admitted before turning her gaze on Tristan. "Speaking of Arthur, he has summoned us to council with him." She told him. "Can you break?"

Tristan nodded and sheathed his sword, stepping closer to her side. "We shall resume later." He said to him, leaving no room for argument. Dagonet didn't look overly thrilled with the prospect of more spars with Tristan but nodded his consent anyway.

Unlike the previous night, Breck did not loop her arm through Tristan's as they made their way through town, nor did she lean into his side like she wanted to. Enough eyes turned to them as they made their way through town with out them flamboyantly displaying their affection for everyone to see. Tristan did walk close to her, though, and she felt a pleasant warmth shoot up her arm when she felt the knuckles of his left hand brush against her right one.

"You do not look well." Tristan commented quietly.

Breck nodded. "I did not rest much, but I am better now." She said reassuringly. She felt Tristan's fingers wrap around her wrist and he discreetly pulled her to a stop, his face an unreadable mask due to their lack of privacy but his eyes expressing to her that he was not completely convinced with her answer. "I speak honestly." Breck said sincerely. "My state is only the result of a rest plagued with unfavorable dreams." She explained. "I would tell you otherwise. Do you recall my promise?"

Tristan seemed to accept her words then and nodded before releasing her as they continued walking. "I was making certain." He defended in response.

"I know." She said, offering him a grateful smile. "Tis an ailment easily solved with a good night's sleep." Breck continued on before tilting her head at him. "You train with Dagonet now?"

"To prepare myself." He answered simply.

"Aye, well, do try not to kill him. Agreed?"

Tristan nodded and his eyes turned to a group of men that were loitering around near the blacksmith's shop. His eyes narrowed at them and Breck followed his gaze, noticing that the men were now averting their gazes quickly and trying to make themselves look preoccupied. Tristan turned his eyes forward again, a self-satisfied smirk appearing on the corner of his mouth, and she nudged his side with her elbow as she rolled her eyes.

"Do not frighten the life away from them. You need only show them this _atrocious _mark you left upon me to prove I am yours." Breck shot at him, pointing to her neck. "Though surely accidental, I am not pleased with it." She chastised.

Tristan raised his eyebrows at her and then stepped closer, his hand grazing her back for the briefest moment as he brought his lips closer to her ear. Immediately all of her senses tuned into his every move and touch. "Accidental? You are certain?" He asked in her ear.

Breck's every temptation begged her to kiss him as memories from the night before came flooding into her mind, but instead she valiantly ignored the effect he was having on her and pushed Tristan away with a huff to continue on towards Arthur's quarters. Not that her annoyance seemed to be very convincing to him, if the amused glint she spied in his eye once he was in step with her again meant anything.

They located Arthur seated at the Round Table about fifteen minutes later, already pouring over maps and scribbling down quick words onto a piece of parchment. He looked pleased to see them when they walked through the door and immediately motioned for them to come further into the room.

"I feared you had forgotten me." Arthur said, standing to greet them. When Tristan was close enough, Arthur stuck a hand out to him. "My congratulations." He said, first and foremost. Tristan seemed caught off guard by Arthur's gesture but shook his hand regardless, nodding to his commanding officer. Arthur then took that time to point at him threateningly. "Hurt her and you shall find yourself without a head." He said in complete seriousness.

"Right." Breck interjected quickly when she saw Tristan quirk an eyebrow at Arthur, clapping her hands together to gain their attention. "To business, then?"

With that being said, everyone settled into the seats at the Round Table and Arthur began to explain the plan he had devised to Breck and Tristan. Since their numbers were small, his plan relied heavily on rigging the Wall and its surrounding fields with traps that would slow down, if not deplete, the Saxons when they attacked. The traps would most certainly end up being useful, but Breck could not overlook the fact that the plan would only prove successful if there were more numbers to back it up. She and Tristan knew they had the Woads on their side but Arthur was still none-the-wiser.

" – and any man who wishes to stay and defend his home is welcome, though it is not favorable." He finally concluded some time later. "There is always the option of calling on neighboring towns, as well. I presume the direness of this situation would procure at least _some_ volunteers."

"Perhaps." Tristan mused as he eyed the map of traps that Arthur had made out. "Is there any chance the Saxons will sneak across the Wall to attack us from behind?"

Breck shook her head. "A small chance, if it exists at all. Cerdic prefers to make a show of his battles – he will go for dramatics, not stealth." She said with certainty. "He will come knocking down our door, I assure you this."

"Then we station archers on the Wall here to lessen their numbers as they approach," Arthur said, pointing to the main gate, "and form our ranks with the Romans to await them here." He finished, now pointing to the area riddles with traps.

"Assuming the Romans do not take their leave as well." Breck reminded him.

Arthur 'hmm'ed and eyed the map silently, a hand coming up to rub his stubble-ridden jaw as he concentrated. His eyes darted over the map a few times before he sighed and dropped his hand, tapping the table. "We need more men." He said matter-of-factly.

One glance towards Tristan let her know exactly what he was thinking at the moment; he was giving her a look that clearly said it was time to tell Arthur about the Woads. She frowned at him before looking over at Arthur, who was still pouring over the maps. "Arthur, a new development _may _have occurred." She started out.

Arthur looked up at her and furrowed his brows. "Development?" He asked.

Though she had previously said she would come up with an excuse for how they came to know of the Woads' involvement, Breck decided that in the end it would be better if she were truthful with him. The situation was sensitive enough without a lie adding to the tension. "Merlin has been attempting to contact me, so I went to meet with him this night past and hold council with him. He wishes to fight and offers us his numbers."

"You _what_?" Arthur asked sharply, staring at her disbelievingly. "You went north of the Wall? _Again_?"

"She was not alone." Tristan interjected. "I accompanied her."

Arthur scoffed and shook his head, his anger and annoyance obvious as he dropped his forehead into one of his hands. He took a few calming breathes before lifting his head and turning an irritated look on her. "You took one of _my _men knowingly into the clutches of the very people that frequently attempt to end his life?"

"I – "

"How could you be so careless?" He questioned, cutting her off. "And you _know _my stance on this matter with Merlin." Arthur growled. "I _refuse _to side with him."

"Arthur, you must see reason." Breck said firmly. "I understand your history is…_complicated_, but – "

"You are well aware that _complicated _does our history no justice." Arthur said steadily despite the fierceness in his gaze. "I specifically told you I was against a plan such as this, yet you still pursued their aid."

"The Woads _offered_." Breck said firmly.

"This is a betrayal I did not expect from you." Arthur continued on as though she hadn't spoken. "They _killed _my _mother_. What if I were to side with Cerdic? What then?"

Breck gave him a warning look and shook her head. "It is not the same."

"How?" He countered. "Because Merlin himself did not slay my mother? Because her death was not on a battlefield or in an ambush?" He shot at her challengingly.

His words, mixed with the fact that her parents' deaths were so fresh in her memory that particular day, made her anger spike up. Breck slammed her hands down on the table and stood to her full height, towering over Arthur since he was still seated. "When I was thirteen years old, Cerdic returned my father to me beheaded and quartered. Then he kept his head for a _trophy_ while I had to bury _each limb _of my father's body." She growled at him. "His actions were purposeful – can you say the same for Merlin?"

Tristan had been so quiet during their argument that Breck had almost forgotten he was there to begin with. She wasn't reminded of his presence until Arthur opened his mouth to retort only to be cut off by Tristan as he stood. "Arthur, let us speak privately." He suggested.

Breck held her tongue, her and Arthur staring each other down, until the half-Roman finally nodded his consent. Tristan grasped her gently by the arm and pulled her away from the table, his free hand coming to rest on her back as he guided her to the door. Despite her lingering anger, Breck was beginning to feel guilt creeping in for the way she had handled their argument and heaved to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. Tristan stopped at the door and opened it for her, nodding into the hallway.

"Wait here, I will speak with him." He urged.

Breck merely nodded and then stepped into the hallway, not even bothering to turn around as the door shut behind her. She thought about taking a seat on the bench that was propped against the wall but ended up pacing the short width of the hallway instead, her arms crossed over her chest as she replayed her argument with Arthur in her head.

Arguing with him was nothing new but it was the last thing they needed at that moment – they had an army to defeat and it would do them no good if they were at each other's throats. His reaction to her news was exactly as she had predicted but she had _not _expected him to throw her parents' deaths back in her face. Breck supposed she had provoked him to do so, but it didn't lessen the hurt any. In no way had she been trying to demean Arthur's loss; she was merely trying to see the bigger picture. She felt like perhaps there was more to learn regarding the death of Arthur's mother and she only wished for him to know all of the facts before continuing his vendetta against the Woads.

She sighed and shook her head, leaning against the wall as she waited. Who was she trying to fool? Breck knew that if the roles were reversed that she would have held the same stance that Arthur currently did. But the damage had been done and the Woads had allied with her. And though she knew it a selfish move, the numbers the Woads possessed were too beneficial to turn them away now. She would just have to spend the rest of her days trying to make Arthur forgive her.

Some ten minutes later the doors opened again to signal Tristan's return. He closed the door behind him but she moved to head back into the room regardless, intent on apologizing to her friend. Breck only made it a few steps towards the door before Tristan looped an arm around her waist to stop her, shaking his head her turned her to face him instead.

"Give him time." He suggested. "He is angry, but I believe I have made him see _some _reason."

Breck nodded with a heavy sigh. The question in his gaze was obvious and she was almost afraid to learn what he thought of her and her decision just then. "Did I make the right decision?" Breck asked him quietly.

"As a warrior? Yes. As a friend? Perhaps not." Tristan said honestly. "But your honesty with him may save you yet." He added, sounding pleased that she had not lied to Arthur about their meeting with Merlin.

"I am selfish." She said, disgusted with herself.

"You are _human_." Tristan corrected. Silence feel between them for a moment as he studied her and the look on his face was hard to read, but she was sure she knew what was on his mind – the information he'd heard regarding her past was something he had not previously known about and something Breck had planned to tell him in her own time. "The recounts that were just told – they are true?" He finally asked.

Breck only nodded in confirmation. Tristan wordlessly brought a hand up to rest on the side of her neck, his eyes searching hers until she could see the sympathy in his gaze. In the next moment he leaned down so that he could kiss her forehead and she knew it was his way of telling her he was sorry for the things that she had been through. Breck placed her hand on his side, pulling herself closer to him and accepting his gesture as she took a calming breath.

When he pulled back to meet her eyes again, the sympathy that had been present was now replaced with a renewed determination. "If it is the last thing I do, Cerdic _will _die." He said firmly. "I swear it to you.

Breck nodded and they only stared at each other for another moment before Tristan was grasping her hand in his to lead her away from the council room. His determination was endearing and the fierceness behind his words let her know he meant what he had said. He wanted to fight Cerdic, that much was obvious. And if it had been anyone else in her position, they would have felt hope at hearing the words of the skilled fighter. But instead Breck tightened her hold on his hand as uneasiness filled her stomach.

Try as she might, she could not overlook the sense of foreboding that began to plague her at hearing his promise.

* * *

**A/N: Wowza, this chapter ended up being much longer then I thought. And I cut it down, too! Sheesh. **

**Anyway, everyone still hanging in with me here? Oh, and when I say six or seven chapters, that's just a minimum. I'm trying to keep the story under forty chapters, so we'll see what happens. **

**Next chapter starts the movie!**


	29. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

The days leading up to the knights' departure were either spent working with Jols or training in the arena, with breaks for food and sleep in between. Tristan had allowed Dagonet to take a reprieve from all of the sparring he had been doing once he saw how tired and slow-moving the healer had become. Instead he enlisted the help of Bors, who was practically chomping at the bit to join in on the 'festivities' (as he called it). Bors' brutish way of fighting brought a new edge to their training and had left her bruised and bloodied more times then she could count, but the harder challenge was welcome.

As far as Arthur was concerned, the man had been avoiding her like the plague ever since their argument. It was more then obvious that he had distanced himself from her but on the rare occasion that they ever _did _end up in the same company his manner was rude, curt, or he simply ignored her all together. It was disheartening but she did not fault him for the way he was acting – she had brought this on herself. She knew, or rather _hoped_, that he would come around eventually; she just had to be patient.

Currently, she, Jols, and Devran were busy making sure all of the horses were prepared and in good condition for their upcoming journey. Bishop Germanius was not due at the fort for another couple of days, but Arthur had decided to take the men out early in case he ended up arriving sooner then expected. Today was the day they were going to ride out and meet the Roman caravan.

Breck hissed as she leaned over to check Azia's hooves, her muscles aching in protest as she finally made it to a crouching position. She took a moment to gently rub at the sore muscles of her back with a wince before lifting up the mare's hoof and checking for any abnormalities. Parting with the knights was never something she looked forward to and usually left her bored beyond belief, but she was glad that she and Bors would be separated for a little while. He had been abusing and manhandling her non-stop for the past four days and at this rate, she would be far too stiff to stand any chance in a fight when the Saxons arrived.

"How is she?" Jols called from his place on the side of Gawain's horse.

Breck managed to push past her pain so she could pull herself to her feet and nodded to Jols. "Azia is fit for the journey." She assured him, patting the mare's neck when she walked past her to go and collect Tristan's saddle.

As Breck approached Azia again with her man's saddle in hand, she quirked an eyebrow at the freckled mare and placed the saddle atop her back gently. "I bestow a new mission upon you." Breck said to her, switching to Gaelic. Azia turned her large head to peer at the redhead and Breck pointed at her nose, giving her a stern look. "Bring your master back to me alive. And unscathed if possible."

Azia snorted at her and the Celt couldn't help but give a small smile and scratch her behind the ears for a quick moment before beginning to fasten the saddle securely onto the horse in front of her.

Truth be told, Breck had been completely on edge as of late. Not only was her spat with Arthur weighing heavily on her mind but she was also anxious and irritable because she knew Cerdic was only drawing nearer and nearer. It seemed now that she could not hold onto one thought for more then a second before her overworked mind was jumping onto the next one; how much longer until the Saxons were at the Wall? When would Arthur forgive her? What would the men think if they knew what she, Arthur, and Tristan had planned? Her thought process the past few days had been maddening and if it weren't for Tristan, she would have gone insane long ago. How the man could still manage to be in her company was beyond her, but somehow she had managed not to scare him off yet.

Breck sighed and rubbed her forehead, straightening up as she finished with Tristan's saddle and resting a hand on Azia as she stared blankly at the mare, lost in her own thoughts.

She was ready for this to be over. All she wanted was to finish Cerdic and finally obtain the closure she had been seeking all of her life. There was an entirely new life waiting for her on the other side of all of this mess, one that held promise of love and friendship and happiness. Breck had seen enough turmoil in her twenty years of living; she was ready to lead the life she had once innocently dreamed of so many years ago, before her entire family had been ripped away from her.

Her thoughts were broken up a moment later when Dagonet came striding into the room with a very enthusiastic looking Galahad practically nipping at the man's heels. " – not exhilarated? Fifteen years, Dag. _Fifteen years._"

"I recall." Dagonet said plainly, brushing off his friend that was almost bouncing with excitement at this point. The healer nodded to her as he went to fetch his own saddle, placing a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment as he passed. "Breck, always good to be in your company."

"My tha – " She started to say before being abruptly cut off.

"Breck!" Galahad practically hollered at her, a wide grin stretched across his face as he strode over and scooped her up into a gigantic hug before she could comprehend his intentions. "My dear, beautiful lady!" He said loudly in her ear, swinging her about in his exuberance.

Breck placed steadying hands on his shoulders and looked down at him with a skeptical look (since he was apparently refusing to put her back onto her own two feet at the moment). She knew he was only excited to finally be free of his servitude but could not resist seizing the moment to tease him, his obvious elation stopping her internal struggle dead in its tracks at the moment. "Have you done something to rouse my anger?" She asked suspiciously. "Why do you flatter?"

"Can a man not be happy?" Galahad asked her in mock offense, finally placing her back onto her feet before spreading his arms widely and closing his eyes, his nose sticking high into the air. "Feast your eyes, my friend. For I shall be a free man when we meet next."

Breck smiled at him and stepped forward, patting his cheek affectionately. "Your _heart _has always been free, friend." She corrected him. "You now merely have the scripture to prove it."

Galahad opened his mouth to say something in return but was cut off by the sound of Bors' loud entrance. "RUS!" He hollered upon entering the stables.

Breck and Dagonet shared an amused look as Galahad returned the call of his comrade and then hurried over to meet Bors at the door, the two of them shaking each other's hands and patting each other on the back in a congratulatory fashion. Some of Bors' older children attempted to come running into the stables but were quickly shooed out by a stern looking Jols, the lot of them nearly running over Gawain as he attempted to enter the building. The golden-haired Sarmatian jumped out of the way as Jols all but chased the children from the barn, then shook his head in bemusement and joined Bors and Galahad as they began to talk enthusiastically of the mission to come.

The atmosphere surrounding the mission was so completely different from what it had been previous times. Usually the men were somber and concentrated but now they were talkative and amped, excited for the freedom that awaited them on the other side of this mission. Sadness crept into her as she acknowledged how little time she had to spend with the men once they returned from collecting Bishop Germanius – most of them planned to head to the homes of their forebears at their earliest convenience. Not that Arthur would allow any of them to linger at the Wall for too long anyway; he had made it clear that he would not ask any of the Sarmatians to stay and risk their lives against the Saxons.

Breck had begun tending to Arthur's horse when Tristan finally made an appearance in the stables. The others attempted to pull him into their enthusiastic chatter but he merely brushed past them, an action that did not thwart the happiness of the trio of Sarmatians in the slightest. Her eyes met Tristan's for a moment as he went to fasten a few weapons onto his saddle but she resisted the urge to go to him and continued with her task of checking Arthur's horse. The steed only put up a mild fuss as she checked his hooves then snorted at her as she came to stand before him.

"My task for _you_ is to persuade your master to forgive my faults." Breck whispered to him in Gaelic. "Do you accept?" The steed tossed his mane with another snort, making her pull a face at him. "Of course not. Your allegiance lies with _him_."

Just as Breck began to double check that Devran had properly secured Arthur's saddle, Arthur himself walked into the room with Lancelot trailing shortly after him. The men fell silent in his presence, looking to him with admiration and complete trust, and Breck wanted so very badly to be back on the receiving end of the proud smile that stretched across his face. He shook hands with the men as he passed them, exchanged a few words with Jols as the man huffily re-entered the stables, and then paused when he spotted her tending to his horse. The two of them stared one another down for a long moment before he turned his back on her to address his knights, making her frown in disappointment.

"Knights, my friends, fifteen long years we have fought together. Now your day of reward has come." He started, gazing at each of his men. "When we return, you shall be free men. But now, in this moment, I stand before you to say I am _proud_ to call you my comrades. Never shall I forget what we have endured on these lands and _never _shall I forget your sacrifice. I will forever consider each of you my comrade and my friend."

The men applauded him and each other as he dismissed them to prepare to leave, and Breck could only wonder if Arthur still considered her to be one of the ones he held so dear to him. Had she foreseen the amount of damage her alliance with Merlin would inflict upon her and Arthur's friendship, she knew she would have thought much more carefully about accepting the offer. But, as Tristan had reminded her several times now, she was only human and she was going to make mistakes. Now she could only hope that Arthur would realize this as well, have mercy on her, and forgive her for her trespasses.

Breck looked up when she heard footsteps approaching and held her breath when she met the familiar, green eyes of her life-long friend. He currently was staring down his nose at her, a blank and unreadable expression on his face, and she straightened up slowly to meet his gaze head on. They stood in silence, regarding one another, until she finally offered him his reigns. Arthur glanced down at her hand before slowly reaching out to take them from her.

"Arthur – "

"Prepare to ride." Arthur commanded, ignoring her attempt to speak with him.

He made to pull himself up onto his horse but Breck firmly put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, positioning herself between him and his horse. "Arthur, _please_." She practically begged. "Words cannot express the amount of regret I feel for having betrayed your trust." She said quietly, hoping the others weren't eavesdropping on their conversation. "Believe me when I say that my sorrow over my actions resides to the very bottom of my heart and soul."

Arthur stared at her for a long moment before turning his eyes away and letting out a heave. His hand came up to gently push hers away and then hoisted himself up onto his horse. She stood there at a loss, not sure if her words had affected him or not until he finally glanced down at her. "I believe your words." Arthur stated. "But am not prepared to accept your apology as of this moment. We will speak more when I return."

Breck pursed her lips and nodded, stepping out of the way as he led his horse away from her and closer to the exit. It would have been preferable if he had forgiven her but the fact that he was at least acknowledging her again was enough to appease her for the moment.

Tristan made his way over to her, Azia in tow behind him, and he glanced at Arthur before turning his eyes back on her. It seemed like he might ask her about the status of her and Arthur's reconciliation but he apparently decided against it. "We shall only be away a short time. I ask that you stay south of the Wall in my departure."

He didn't need to go into detail for Breck to understand the reasoning behind his request. "I know too well what draws nearer from the north." She said quietly with a nod. "Worry not – I shall remain safe within the protection of the fort." Tristan seemed pleased with her response and took a step closer to her, one of his hands reaching out to grasp hers discreetly to avoid the prying eyes of his comrades. She wanted very much to kiss him at that moment but decided against it due to their lack of privacy, holding his hand tightly in her own instead and giving him a stern look. "You _will _return to me safely – understood?"

Tristan only nodded in confirmation, looking like he wanted to say a number of things to her at that moment but holding his tongue.

"Tristan." Arthur barked at him sharply to catch his attention.

By this time, all of the other knights had mounted their horses and were prepared to leave, now only impatiently waiting for the scout to join their party. Tristan gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing her and turning to mount Azia, immediately going to join Arthur and his fellow Sarmatians once he was settled without another backward glance towards her.

"Knights…" Arthur said as he took one last surveying glance at his men. "We ride!"

With that command, the seven men were galloping from the stables to embark on their last mission.

Breck, Jols, and Devran followed them by foot out into the street, the three of them silently watching their retreating backs until the knights were no longer within their sights. She could see from her peripheral when Jols turned to look at her and spared him a glance, fully aware that everyone she knew was conscious of her and Arthur's fight but not willing to discuss the matter with anyone who pried too deeply. "All will be well." He reassured her, patting her back.

Breck crossed her arms as a familiar, uneasy feeling settled within her bones and huffed. "With whom?"

Jols looked genuinely stumped then and shrugged. "Both men?" He offered unsurely.

Breck was saved from having to participate in the conversation any further when she spotted Vanora making her way towards her, the woman and her children obviously loitering around in the area so they could see Bors off. "Breck!" She called, trying to weave through her children with the baby Eleven in her arms.

"Vanora, how are you?" She asked politely in greeting, plastering on a smile as her friend came to meet her with her flock of children in tow. Jols, being notorious for his irritation towards Bors and Vanora's gang of children, scowled at the individual culprits that had attempted to infiltrate his stables before wordlessly turning to head back inside. "Come to see Bors off?"

"Of course." Vanora said. "The children and I wondered, might you pleasure us with your company and sup with us this night?"

Breck smiled and immediately nodded her agreement. It wasn't often that she and Vanora were allowed to enjoy each other's company and they were long overdue to have a night to themselves that did not include the rowdy, oft-time obnoxious presence of the men. "I would be honored." She said. "Allow me the indulgence of a bath, first, and then my company is yours."

The children cheered their excitement over her agreement until Vanora ushered them away, waving at Breck in parting over her shoulder as they headed back for their home. Breck watched them retreat for a moment before glancing in the direction that the knights had left one more time, saying a quick prayer for their safety as her uneasiness returned, then headed back into the stables to finish her work for the day.

* * *

Breck sighed contentedly as she slipped into the pond, taking advantage of her friends' absence and the darkness of the night to bathe for the first time in several days. The temperature of the water had cooled significantly now since they were drawing closer to winter, but the pond water immediately began to soothe the ache that she had been feeling in her muscles almost non-stop. She dunked her head under the water, relishing in the coolness of it before surfacing again and reaching for the soap she had laid on top of her fresh change of clothes.

As had been the case all day, she found herself thinking about Tristan and the other men and hoping that, wherever they may be, they were safe. The apprehension that continued to plague her had been present ever since Tristan's determined promise and refused to take its leave. Breck could recall only a few other instances when the ominous feeling had been this strong within her – the majority of them had occurred when she had been on the road and chasing the Saxons (though nothing serious had resulted on the majority of these occasions), but the one time her foreboding had become a reality was when she saw her father go into battle for the very last time. Though she had not wanted to admit it to herself, Breck had known she would never see him again the day he left to face Cerdic.

She tried in vain to convince herself that her anxiety was only because her life had become so deeply entangled with Tristan's, and that it was her love for him that made her feel concerned tenfold. But no matter how many times she told herself this, it did nothing to calm her. Breck knew that he was a skilled warrior and held no doubts that he could take care of himself, but the motivation behind this particular fight was vastly different – Tristan fought for _her_, not because he was being commanded to. If his words were anything to judge off of, he would stop at nothing to see Cerdic dead. And this terrified her.

She now had to figure out this – what was she supposed to do to make sure the ones she loved did not meet untimely ends? What were her instincts trying to tell her? What was _God _trying to tell her?

Breck had been too young and too inexperienced to help Kenrick when he had faced Cerdic; now she was grown, was a good fighter, and fought for things that Cerdic had never had the pleasure of knowing. She fought to avenge the loving family that had been ripped away from her, she fought to preserve the love that had blossomed between her and Tristan, and she fought to protect her friends and their homes from the monster that awaited them – she would die before she allowed Tristan to become another victim of the man that had destroyed her life and vowed to use every ounce of her strength and every bit of her fierceness to protect him.

"Guide me." She prayed quietly in the melodic, Gaelic language of her mother. "Provide me the strength to do what I must. I beg you."

By the time she had managed to pull herself from her thoughts and from the pond, the hour of night had grown late and the skin of her hands and feet had prickled into a prune-like texture. She redressed, not feeling anymore at ease now then she had previously, and gathered up her things to head for her friend's house. Breck strongly considered just going home to catch up on her sleep but then decided that the wrath of Vanora was not something she needed to subject herself to at the moment.

"I believed you had forgotten our plans." Vanora said upon opening the door to Breck's knock.

Breck looked at her guiltily and shrugged as she stepped into the house. "Forgive me – I became distracted."

"I understand the worries one might have over their lover." Vanora said dismissively, herding the younger redhead into one of the chairs flanking the table. "The children, however, will require more convincing." She warned, nodding to the room where Breck assumed they were now sleeping.

Breck settled into the chair and watched as Vanora ladled out two bowls of stew, closing her eyes as she inhaled the scent of the meal to better savor it. The scent of the food was similar to how her mother's cooking would smell on nights like these and it made her smile sadly at the memory of it. "The scent reminds me of my mother." Breck said in answer to Vanora's questioning look.

"Must have been a decent cook, then." She said lightheartedly, giving her a wide smile as she offered the meal to her.

"Aye, she was." Breck agreed, accepting her dinner with a grateful nod.

Eleven began to fuss just as Vanora settled down to eat and the woman sighed heavily, beginning to push up from her chair again. Breck shook her head and got up first, pausing by her side to rest a hand on her shoulder. "Allow me – you deserve a hot meal." She said before moving to collect the fussy baby.

"My thanks." Vanora said gratefully. "And please, pass along such information to my lover."

Breck grinned at her words and picked Eleven up, cooing to him softly to get him to stop crying before he woke up the other children. Once the small child had a grip on her damp hair, inspecting it with interest like he always did, she went to join Vanora at the table again and used her free hand to eat the stew she had been provided with. Breck rocked the baby gently, whispering soothing Gaelic words to him, until his big eyes began to droop shut again.

Vanora shook her head across the table, eyeing her with awe. "Tis awe inspiring the effect you have on children. It comes naturally to you." Then she laughed to herself and poured them two heaping goblets of wine. "I believe he may love you more then his father."

Breck raised her eyebrows skeptically as she accepted the wine from her friend. She had been complimented plenty of times on her skill with a blade or with her bow, but never had someone complimented her for her mothering skills. In fact, Breck had been largely convinced for the majority of her life that she did not possess any form of parenting ability. "Perhaps he prefers me because my breath does not stink of ale." She said with a shrug, hiding her surprise at Vanora's observation.

Vanora cracked a grin and took a long gulp of wine before beginning to tell Breck of her day at the tavern. It was a nice break to hear of mundane, every day occurrences rather then ponder over her own inner turmoil or talk of war and Saxons, and she listened to her friend happily as she ate. When the baby in her army nestled further with her protective embrace, it made her turn her attention back to him before staring at him pensively.

Could she picture herself being a mother someday? The possibility of it wasn't something she had pondered over since being a very young girl and she set down her spoon with a thoughtful look, moving a finger to gently touch the boy's plump, bottom lip and wondering at how small and delicate he truly was. This baby was so young and innocent and so vastly unaware of the dangers that surrounded him. Could Breck ever willingly bring a child into a world that she knew was full of darkness and dangers? Was it just a risk that she would have to take and hope she was able to protect him or her from the demons of the world? She sighed and stared down at Eleven, beginning to wonder what would become of him should they fail to ward off the Saxons. The thought of anything happening to him, his parents, or the gaggle of children sleeping in the next room made her want to force them away from Hadrian's Wall right then and there, but she sighed and cleared her head of the thought.

No, they were not going to fail. They _could not _fail. Failure only meant death for her and the ones that she held dearest to her and it was something she had firmly resolved not to allow. Eleven's home would not be destroyed, no harm would come to him or his family, and he would grow to be old and have his own family some day.

"Do you imagine yourself holding your own child?" Vanora asked, catching Breck's attention again.

Breck frowned and shook her head at Vanora's misinterpretation of her silent musings. "No, though I do find myself contemplating the _idea_ of children."

At her words, a knowing smile stretched across Vanora's pretty face. "Understandable. You have a man now and, well, there _has _been talk…"

Breck was well aware how much Vanora fancied gossip and though she normally was against hearing or spreading rumors, Breck couldn't help but raise her eyebrows in interest. "Do continue." She prompted.

"The whole of the fort is aware of your relationship with Tristan." Vanora said, not really surprising Breck since she'd already suspected this. "Even if your romance is reserved for private moments, you would have to be blind and foolish to not know circumstances have changed." Vanora revealed. "By now, the townsfolk are beginning to place bets on when your wedding shall be announced."

"Wedding?" Breck asked incredulously, trying to keep her voice down so that she would not wake Eleven again. The very thought of such it, in the midst of all the madness taking place right then, seemed ludicrous to her. "Who spreads word of such an event?"

"Who does not?" Vanora countered before she tilted her head at her, clearly in disbelief. "You mean you have not considered marrying Tristan?" She asked.

Breck closed her mouth instantly as she considered Vanora's inquiry. Her romance with Tristan was still very new and a change that Breck was still becoming accustomed to, not to mention the fact that her thoughts had been focused around Cerdic almost non-stop since coming back from Alban. There was still so much to be done in the present that she had not allowed herself to plan very far into her and Tristan's future. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed marriage is where their relationship would eventually lead them to. She and Tristan were in love and he had made it clear he would never willingly leave her, just as she knew her place would always be at his side.

The thought of being Tristan's wife left a warm feeling throughout her body and as she turned her eyes back down to Eleven, Breck found herself wondering what it would be like if the life in her arms was one that she and Tristan had created. The thought of dark haired, miniature Tristan's running about made her heart thud hard in her chest and she gulped as she met Vanora's gaze again.

"If you did not previously imagine your own children, your mind ponders it now." Vanora said with a small smile.

"Tis a terrifying thought." Breck admitted meekly.

"It is." Vanora readily agreed.

Breck shook her head and tried vainly to push the idea of marriage and children to the back of her thoughts. The idea of such a life with Tristan was not unwelcome now that she had opened her mind to it, but there were far more pressing concerns that required her attention at the moment; after all, the both of them still had to make it out of this mess alive in order to pursue the things she was currently considering.

"Are you well? You seem troubled." Vanora said next, looking concerned.

Breck nodded slowly, knowing she would not be able to truly express her concerns for Tristan's safety without revealing the secret that she, Tristan, and Arthur all kept. Vanora was her friend, but the woman was a notorious gossip and would surely spread panic within the fort by the end of the night. "Aye. Merely…tired."

"I concur." Vanora said even as she stifled a wide yawn.

The two of them finished their meal with mild, leisurely conversation until Eleven began to wake and become fussy again. Breck handed him over whenever Vanora came around the table to collect him and then piled their dishes on the table to be cleaned later. The rapid pace of her changing thoughts had only added to her exhaustion and she finally stood to stretch her body as Vanora checked the baby's undergarments.

"He needs changing." Vanora grumbled. "And a feeding – a few wondrous occurrences you may eagerly await for your future." She added with a smirk before heading for the bedroom. "I fear this is where our night shall end, friend."

Breck nodded and gathered up her things again to head back to her quarters. "Forgive me for my tardiness." She said guiltily. "I shall amend our night, I promise."

"Accepted." Vanora said. Breck started for the door but paused when Vanora spoke again, a reassuring look on her face. "Breck?" She called. "I recognize the fear in your eyes – worry not for Tristan. With his brothers by his side, he shall be protected."

* * *

Vanora's words replayed in her head the entire way back to her quarters as though they were taunting her and she scowled, kicking at a rock that was in her way. _With his brothers by his side, with his brothers by his side, his brothers, his brothers…_But Tristan wouldn't have his brothers. The only people that would be willing to put their life on the line for him would be her and Arthur. The Woads were on their side but they would protect their own people first before considering doing anything for them.

The darkened, unoccupied rooms of the knights' quarters came into view and caused her to quicken her pace eagerly to get home faster. She had never been more glad to see the worn, dank quarters then she was at that moment – this day had wrecked havoc on her mind and she wanted nothing more but to curl up in her bed and sleep all of her cares away.

Breck stepped into her room, shut the door behind her, and then tossed her things carelessly to the side so that she could start a fire for the night. Once the flames had come to life and warmth began to fill her room, she stood and turned to pull her shift from her trunk.

Then Breck immediately froze.

There, on her table, protruded an arrow that she immediately recognized to belong to the Woads. She narrowed her eyes and glanced around the room suspiciously, half expecting someone to jump out as her, before going to inspect her table. To her surprise, the arrow was only being used to anchor a note that was scrawled out in barely legible handwriting. She yanked it free of the arrow before going over to the fire to read it.

_Celt –_

_Word has spread – our brothers and sisters from near and far come to fight by our side. _

The note wasn't signed, but didn't need to be. She knew without a doubt it was a message from Merlin. But his lack of signature, nor the fact that the Woads knew where she lived, was not what concerned her. It was the next (and last) line of the letter that worried her and caused her to sit down on her bed with a deep frown, her heart thudding in her chest as she read and re-read the words.

_A mission takes us south. Your man will be spared. We shall attempt to leave the others unharmed._

* * *

**A/N: Sneaky, sneaky Woads! **

**King of a filler, sorry dudes!**


	30. Chapter 29

**I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

The talk with Vanora the previous night had been pushed nearly out of her mind come the next day, along with any lingering thoughts of marriage or children. Instead her focus had shifted to the Woads and the disconcerting letter they had left for her. Breck had been attempting to figure out just what in God's name the strange people were up to but was left stumped by their actions. Obviously they were staging an attack of some sort, but the idea of them knowingly attacking the friends of someone they had allied with just plain didn't make any sense to her. In case her own definition of an ally had been seriously misconstrued at some point in her life, Breck was completely certain that a purposeful attack such as the one she feared may happen was against the terms of their agreement.

Had Breck made a mistake in trusting the Woads?

Perhaps she had. But then again, perhaps she had not. Both Arthur and Tristan had tried to warn her about the Woads and part of her felt now that it may have been wise to heed their words. One the other hand, she had to remind herself of Merlin's usage of words; they led her to believe that the knights were _not_ their target in their mission, whatever it may be. He had specifically ensured Tristan's safety and at least attempted the same for the others, which she found to be somewhat encouraging. The only way to truly ease her mind was to speak to Merlin about it and that simply was not a possibility at that moment.

She sighed and paused from sharpening her sword to glance upwards towards the sun. It was slowly beginning its descent as they drew into the late hours of the afternoon and she frowned, casting a look out amongst the rolling fields that surrounded the armory and arena. They had only been gone for a day and half but that had not stopped her from continuously searching for any sight of the knights against the horizon. Not only was she ready to have them safely within her sights again but it was also lonely in their absence, especially Tristan's.

Breck stood from the bench, swishing her father's old blade around and feeling satisfied when she heard the crisp slicing noises that sounded while her sword cut through the air. After her eyes inspected along the length of the blade one least time, she sheathed her sword and then headed into the armory to scour for any weapons that might prove useful to her. She didn't usually stray from her sword, dagger, and bow but since they were going to be outnumbered (even more so if her alliance with Merlin fell through), it didn't seem a bad idea to have an extra weapon or two on her person for the fight.

Her search proved successful when she spotted a medium sized club to her right and went to collect it, eyeing the rows of spikes wound around the end of it approvingly (was that blood on the spikes or rust?). This weapon had more the likely been Gawain's once, but now she was going to claim it for her own. Breck stepped back outside again and headed over to the wooden training dummies, excited to test out her new weapon.

She rose up the club defensively, testing the weight of it in her hands for a moment, before swinging hard at the wooden block before her. A hard _thunk _sounded as the club made contact with its target. With a firm yank she loosened the spikes from the wood again and stepped forward to inspect the damage, a sadistic smirk working its way onto her face as she imagined the sort of damage this weapon would have on a softer target – like Cerdic.

A loud screech sounded above her and she looked up sharply, shielding her eyes again as she spotted Tristan's hawk circling high up above her. Instantly her heart began to thud excitedly against her ribs and she inspected the area around her, expecting Tristan to make his presence known at any given moment. But with a frown she noted he wasn't there and looked up again in confusion at the bird that was now swooping down towards her.

"Odd…" Breck wondered out loud, wondering why the hawk had come and stretching her arm out to accept the bird as it came closer.

But the bird had other plans in mind; its talons dug into her arm sharply and Breck hissed, trying to shake it off of her. The bird screeched again, nearly slapping Breck in the face with its wings and then nipped at her hair before beginning to circle her head.

"Ruddy creature!" Breck growled, glaring up at Tristan's offending pet as she nursed her forearm. "What be the meaning of this?"

The bird only screeched for good measure and then flew off, heading south. Breck shook her head at the bird's antics and wagged her new club at its retreating form threateningly, trying to remind herself that Tristan was fond of the creature and that killing it would only get her in trouble. Then, with a start, she realized that there may have actually be a reason behind its strange behavior – as in something may have happened to Tristan and the bird had come to warn her.

Breck didn't think twice as she gripped her club firmly and hurried out of the arena to go and fetch her horse. If the Tristan was hurt and it was because of the Woads' doing, she was going to kill every last one of them with her bare hands.

About halfway to the stables Breck realized that the fort seemed more active then usual. Children were squealing and running around in excitement while men and women alike all seemed to be rushing in the direction of Arthur's quarters. She watched the moving crowd, unsure of whether she should follow or not, until a familiar head was seen bobbing in between townsfolk as he made his way to her.

"Breck! Breck!" He called, waving to her wildly as he attempted to move past two men that were much larger then him.

The club in her hand drew a few odd looks but she paid them no mind as she pushed to the crowd to meet him, hoping that the commotion meant the knights had returned and without any injury. "Devran, what news?" She asked upon reaching him.

"The knights have returned with the Bishop! Jols sends for you." He informed her quickly.

Feeling relieved that he had not mentioned any injuries to the men, Breck flashed him a happy smile and then let him navigate them back through the even increasing crowd. She eventually spotted Bors and Vanora's group of children, who were looking on as the couple enthusiastically reunited for everyone to see, and craned her neck for any sign of Tristan. She eventually spotted him making his way through the crowd with the other Sarmatians and felt at ease for the first time in days at seeing him alive and well.

"Breck!" Galahad called enthusiastically when he spotted her pushed through the crowd towards them. His intent seemed to be to come and hug her but he stopped short when he spotted the club in her hands. "Er…" He said unsurely, frowning down at the weapon in her hand.

"Oh." Breck said, having nearly forgotten that she still held it to begin with. "I was…practicing."

Galahad raised his eyebrows. "Practicing _what_?"

"I have seen this before." Gawain said, snatching the club from her hands as he walked up to join them. "An old friend of mine."

"And _new _friend of mine." Breck said firmly, taking it back from him with a swat to his shoulder. "I am pleased you have all returned safely." She added as an afterthought while Gawain looked at her in mock-offence.

The two men before her started responding to her statement but their words fell on deaf ears. Breck's attention was caught by Tristan as he leisurely strolled over to join them, a tiny smirk on the corner of his lips and his offensive hawk sitting perching on his forearm as he gazed at her unwaveringly. Breck smiled at him, happy to be seeing his handsome face again (and so soon), and scanned her eyes over his form for any hint of a wound. There was blood on him but none seemed to be his.

"Honestly, Breck. Have you heard a word we've said?" Galahad asked impatiently, forcing her to finally turn her eyes on him again. At her confused look, the young knight rolled his eyes. "I was _informing you_ that we shall be celebrating tonight."

"And I expected no less." Breck countered as Tristan came to stand next to her. "When is there not a celebration?"

Galahad and Gawain looked like they both might protest her remark but were stopped short when Dagonet came over and placed firm hands on the backs of the necks to guide them away, looking very much like a father who was taking his sons away to be chastised. The healer shot her a half-smile over his shoulder and Breck gave him a grateful look in returned for his obvious attempt to give her and Tristan time to themselves.

"Subtle." Tristan remarked before turning his eyes back on her.

Breck sincerely wished they had not been standing in the middle of a busy square right then – she wanted to kiss him so badly that it almost hurt. Instead, so she wouldn't end up embarrassing the both of them in public by pouncing on him, she turned her eyes to the bird that had the audacity to coolly return her stare.

"His return did _not _require such an aggressive announcement." Breck grumbled to the bird. When Tristan glanced at the bird and then cast her an odd look, she glared at his pet. "Your pet found attacking me to be suitable means of announcing your arrival." She explained. Then she frowned and crossed her arms. "To whom does that blood belong?"

"Some Woads." He responded simply, making her frown. So they _had _fought the Woads? Tristan looked pointedly at the club in her hands for a moment. "Is there a reason you presently wield a weapon?"

"I have no carrier for it as of yet." Breck said with a shrug, bringing the weapon up higher so he could see it better. "Do you approve of my choice?"

Tristan eyed it and then smirked, looking almost proud of her just then. "Very Saxon of you." He responded with a hint of a teasing tone to his voice.

"Breck!" Jols called to her, gaining her attention. "I require your help!"

"I come!" She called back to him before looking to Tristan regretfully. "I must go – what be your plan this night?" Not only did Breck need to tell him about the letter she had received last night but she wanted desperately to have some alone time with him.

"We meet with Arthur and the Roman to receive our discharge papers by nightfall." Tristan revealed. Jols called her name again with impatience and Tristan glanced at him before placing a hand on her back to gently guide her into the direction she needed to be going. "Go. We will meet in the tavern soon." He promised.

Breck nodded and handed her new club over to him. He accepted it a bit unsurely and she smiled, barely resisting the temptation to run a hand over his bearded cheek as she stepped away from him. "Hold it for me – I shall collect it once my duties are finished." She asked of him. He nodded once in agreement and Breck gazed at him for a long moment, happy to be back in his company. "I missed you." She added quietly.

A glint she was slowly beginning to become familiar with appeared in his eyes and he merely inclined his head towards her, telling her wordlessly that he had missed her as well. They parted then, albeit regretfully, and Breck finally joined Jols to take the horses back to the stables. She noticed that Arthur had lingered in the square to speak with a few of the Roman soldiers that had arrived with the bishop and Breck smiled at him gently when he met her gaze.

To her surprise, Arthur excused himself from the Romans and made his way over to her. He stopped before her and held her nervous stare for a moment until he glanced over at Jols. "May I steal her for a moment?" He asked. "I shall not keep her from her work long."

If Jols was unhappy with Arthur's request, he didn't show it. He merely nodded and took the reigns of the horses that she had just been about to lead to the stables. Arthur motioned for her to follow him and she did so without protest, anxious as to what he might have to say to her. Once they were awarded some privacy, Arthur crossed his arms and gave her a very stern look that made her squirm uncomfortably.

After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke up. "I trust you did nothing foolish in our absence?"

"No." Breck immediately answered.

He continued to watch her as though looking for any sign that she were lying to him before he let out along breath. "As unfavorable as your actions may be, intentionally malicious they are not." He finally said. "You must understand my reluctance – the man responsible for my mother's death offers his allegiance to the only family I have left. It causes much stress for me."

Breck felt her nervousness melt away and nodded, reaching a hand out to place it on his shoulder. She was touched that he held her so dear to him and his words, coupled with the fact that he didn't brush off her gesture, left her feeling very optimistic. "I understand completely." She assured him. "And I shall do what I must to earn your forgiveness."

Arthur nodded and gave her a pinched smile before motioning to where Jols was awaiting her. "We will talk more." He promised her. "Tend to the horses before Jols goes mad."

Breck patted his shoulder and then moved away from him with a nod, waving to him in goodbye before going to join Jols and returned the horses back to their stalls for tending. She had no idea what had made Arthur decide to work at mending their friendship, but she was not about to question it too much. He may not completely forgive her yet, but he was willing to try and, at that moment, that was more then enough to appease her.

* * *

Since she was stinking to high heaven of horse and grime by the time she, Jols, and Devran had finished tending to the horses, Breck made a quick stop to her quarters in order to change and make herself a bit more presentable. Knowing this may very well be the last time she was ever allowed to enjoy a night like this with the men, she opted to change into one of her nicer dresses for the occasion and went to her dirty mirror so she could scrub her face clean and do something with her mass of hair.

As she braided her hair, her eyes dropped down to the necklace that she had worn around her neck ever since her father had been killed. Her mother said that it had been a gift to Kenrick on their wedding day and that such a gift was a common occurrence amongst the women in their family. Almost instantly she began to wonder what this piece of jewelry may look like hanging from Tristan's neck and smiled to herself softly, bringing it up to her lips to kiss it before tucking it into the neckline of her dress. She had saved the jewelry in order to have a remembrance of her father and family, but now it seemed only fitting that it should be bestowed upon Tristan. Parting with it would be difficult but she knew it would never be far from her – she intended to keep Tristan for as long as she was allowed to and gifting such an important part of her family to him would only seal that fact.

The noise from the tavern was already loud and raucous as she stepped into the busy gathering place. Despite the anxiety that had been prominent in her mind as of late, the sight of her friends drinking, laughing, and enjoying yet another round of dagger throwing quickly banished her troubled thoughts. Saying goodbye to her friends would not be easy and was not something she looked forward to, but at least they still had this last night together to celebrate and enjoy each other's company before they all took the paths destiny had laid out for them. And Breck was determined to enjoy the night.

Tristan met her gaze from across the room and she smiled at him with a wave before going to the bar to order herself some ale. Bors was lingering in the area with Eleven in his arms and Breck grinned as she walked up to him, peeking over his shoulder at the chubby baby in his arms. "How is little man?" Breck asked as the baby happily gurgled upon seeing her.

"Little? Vanora spreading rumors about me?" Bors asked crudely with a teasing smirk. The unamused glare she shot at him made him chuckle and he shifted the baby in his arms, looking down at him adoringly. "Eleven is well."

Breck nodded and ran a fingertip over Eleven's cheek before patting Bors' shoulder. "My congratulations, friend, for your safe return and your freedom." She said sincerely.

"Thank you." Bors said with a wide grin. "And mine to you as well – when be the weddin'?"

"I know not what you speak of." Breck responded aloofly, turning her eyes away from the knowing look on Bors' face as Vanora approached. "Vanora, hello." She readily greeted, thankful for the distraction she presented. "Tis a busy night."

"I need no reminding." Vanora said tiredly before pressing a mug of ale into her hands. "On the house." Then the woman grabbed her lover by the arm to pull him along with her to the bar. "Leave the woman alone, lover." Breck heard her chastise.

Bors began to protest in mock-innocence but their bickering was soon drowned out by the loud crowd around her. Breck laughed to herself over the antics of her friends and then turned to go join Galahad, Gawain, and Tristan. Jols, who had come to partake in the festivities, stopped her briefly to talk for a moment but her eyes kept darting to Tristan over his shoulder, a small smile on her face as she noticed him patiently waiting for her at the table.

"There you are!" Sounded the familiar voice of Lancelot. He pushed himself up from the table he'd been sharing with some Roman soldiers and walked over to her and Jols, nodding to the man before turning a more serious stare on the redhead. "Breck, I wish to speak with you."

"What of?" She asked unsurely.

Lancelot placed a hand on her back to guide her away from Jols, leading her to a less crowded area of the tavern so that they could speak a bit ore privately. There was obviously something weighing on the flirtatious knight's mind and he frowned as he stared at her. "Do not inform Arthur of what I am about to ask." He said, wagging a finger in her face. When she nodded, Lancelot managed to cross his arms without spilling the drink in his hand and shot her a serious look. "Did you know of the Saxons?"

Breck could not have been more stunned if he had dropped onto one knee, professed his undying love for her, and then asked her to be his wife. She blinked at him in stunned silence for a long moment before realizing that she had to answer him. "I – Saxons?" She finally managed out, trying unsuccessfully to feign ignorance.

"As I thought." Lancelot said, apparently having gotten the answer he was looking for. "Arthur did as well, did he not?"

Breck sighed and glanced around them to make sure nobody was eavesdropping on their conversation. It was risky to talk about this subject in such a public setting, but she was curious to know how Lancelot had come to find out about the Saxons. Breck ignored his question about Arthur and asked him one of her own instead. "Lancelot, how did you learn of this?" She asked quietly for only him to hear.

He heaved, a dark look coming over his face. "The man travelling with the Bishop first hinted of the matter upon collecting them and it seemed odd to me when Arthur showed no surprise at hearing the man's words. It was the Bishop himself who informed us of the Saxon movement. Rome is pulling out of Briton because of it – indefinitely."

This was certainly news to her. So the Romans knew that the Saxons were coming. Of course they had; how could they have not? "And no Roman soldiers will remain?" Lancelot shook his head 'no' and Breck heaved. They had the Woads (hopefully) on their side still, but it wasn't comforting to know that the Roman soldiers they thought would be fighting alongside them would no longer be present.

"You have a plan with Arthur." He accused. "Enlighten me."

Breck gave him a stern look and shook her head. Arthur was already mad enough at her as it was without involving Lancelot in their plan. "No. This matter should not be discussed any longer." She hissed to him before brushing past him.

Lancelot caught her by the wrist before she could leave him completely and pulled her to a quick stop, gazing steadily at her. "I _will _learn of your mission, whatever it may be." He said with promise lacing his words.

He released her wrist then and they sized one another up in silence until the Romans began calling for Lancelot to rejoin their game. "My congratulations on your freedom, Lancelot." She finally said steadily with a nod to him.

With that being said, she left him to his own devices again and turned on her heel to join the knights at the table. Lancelot could be fairly stubborn when he wanted to, but she was not going to give in to his prying if it continued after this night. If Arthur wanted Lancelot to know of their plan, then she would not argue his decision. But Arthur would be the one to tell him, not her.

Tristan's eyes were locked on Lancelot as she came to stand next to him and Breck nudged his side with her elbow to draw his attention to her. "Steady." She said to him, placing a hand on his back discreetly to move hand over him soothingly, knowing all too well what the tension in his shoulders meant. "Tell me of the Woads." Breck urged to avert his attention.

"They attacked the Bishop's carriage." Tristan explained. "We intervened."

Breck nodded and averted her gaze to Galahad and Gawain's game. She felt less stressed knowing for certain that their target hadn't been the men but had to wonder what sort of effect the day's events might have on their alliance. Obviously the Woads had known the knights would be present and that they would defend the Roman caravan, so why had they gone through with the mission? What was the point of attacking the Bishop in the first place?

"The attack does not surprise you." Tristan observed, drawing her attention to him again.

Breck shook her head. It was her intention to tell him of the note she'd received but Galahad had noticed her and began to make his way over with a wide grin, looking worse for wear at this point in the evening. "I shall explain later." She promised Tristan before smiling at Galahad as he approached. "Galahad, it appears the night treats you well."

The young knight smiled and then wrapped an arm around her, effectively pulling her away from Tristan and into his side. "That it does, my dear, beautiful Breck." He confirmed. "Tristan, may I steal your woman for a dance?"

"A dance?" Breck blanched, trying to disentangle herself from Galahad's arms. "Forgive me, but I must kindly refuse."

"Nonsense!" Galahad protested, taking her drink from her hand and nearly spilling the contents of it as he shoved it into Tristan's grasp. "Come! Honor me!"

She made to protest again but was interrupted when Bors loudly began to push his way into the center of the tavern, Vanora in tow with Eleven in her arms. "Shut up! Shut up!" Bors called loudly, shushing and quieting the musicians that had been playing as well as the surrounding patrons. "Vanora will sing!" He announced, though the woman didn't look particularly pleased with the idea.

The crowd around them began chanting for her to sing and Breck shot a triumphant smirk at Galahad, earning herself a disgruntled scoff and a point in her face. "You have been spared this time." He informed her discontentedly before turning his attention to Vanora. "Sing of home!" He commanded, joining in with the encouraging crowd.

When the woman began singing, Breck could only listen and smile at the pleasant tones of the song that left her friend's lips. The song was not one that she knew, but one look around at the Sarmatians let her know that it was one the men obviously had brought back from their home. The effect it had on them was almost instantaneous – their previous rowdy behavior had been subdued significantly as they either listened with small, almost sad smiles on their faces or sang along with Vanora.

Breck turned her gaze on Tristan and offered him a small smile when he met her eyes, a gesture that he answered with an inclination of his head. It was difficult to tell if the song was affecting him but she moved back to his side anyway, taking her mug of ale from him when he offered it to her. In the next moment he produced an apple and began to cut into it with his knife, clearly tuning the song out. Part of her felt guilty for keeping him from his home, but the other part was selfishly elated that he was willing to sacrifice so much for her. Breck could not resist reaching out to run an adoring hand along the length of his back. Tristan met her gaze again and seemed to understand the gratitude that was in her eyes, pausing with his apple to pull her closer and press a kiss to her forehead despite the crowd around them.

"Arthur!" She heard Jols call, pulling her and Tristan from their private moment.

"Arthur!" Galahad echoed.

Breck spotted Arthur making her way through the crowd and stepped away from Tristan, urging him to go meet with his commanding officer when the other men began to crowd around him. Tristan handed her a large slice of apple before he made his way over to Arthur and she popped the piece of fruit into her mouth as she turned to go and search for Vanora, leaving the men to their business.

"You sing well." Breck complimented.

"My thanks. The man always forces me." Vanora sighed before offering Eleven to her. "Just for a moment?" She asked pleadingly.

Breck nodded and gathered up the child in her arms, smiling down at him when he cooed happily and began toying with her long braid. "What be your plan now that Bors is a free man?" Breck asked, trailing behind Vanora while the older redhead carried a tray of dirty dishes to the bar.

"Tis difficult to know." Vanora admitted. "Our home has been in the fort for so long and eleven is many children to move elsewhere." She said with a shrug. "But Bors _has_ made comments of remaining here – him and Dag alike."

That was not good news. If the Romans were pulling out of Briton _now_, then the Saxons could not be very far from them. The thought of her friends lingering behind at the fort left Breck feeling apprehensive and she knew she was going to have to try to convince them to leave. "Surely you do not wish to raise the children amongst such hostile conditions?" Breck suggested, shifting Eleven in her arms.

"Hostile?" Vanora asked in confusion. "What do you speak of?"

Breck snapped her mouth shut at once. Bors had obviously not informed her that the Saxons were on the island yet. "Nothing. Forget I – "

"I am a free man! I will choose my own fate!"

Bors' sudden yell drew the attention of most of the tavern and both Breck and Vanora looked at him in surprise before shooting each other concerned glances. Eleven began to fuss in her arms and she rocked him in an attempt to quite him, trying to strain her ears and hear whatever it was the men were talking about. An argument was quickly breaking out amongst the Sarmatians while Arthur looked on regretfully, his jaw set into a hard line.

"I've got something to live for!" Galahad yelled next.

What in the world was going on? Breck watched as Dagonet broke away from the group stiffly and began to head for the exit, Tristan following slowly behind him.

"Bors? You coming?" Dagonet called to him.

"Of course I'm comin'!" The man roared. "Can't let you go on your own! You'll all get killed!" Breck knew something was definitely wrong then. "I'm just sayin' what you're all thinkin'!"

Tristan paused by the doorway to the tavern, turning expecting eyes to her, and she quickly handed Eleven over to a highly concerned looking Vanora before hurrying to catch up with him. He led her out of the tavern with a hand on her back and as soon as they were outside, she rounded on him with crossed arms.

"What happened?" She demanded.

"The Romans grant us one last mission in place of our discharge papers." He grumbled in annoyance. "We are to ride north to rescue a Roman family from the Saxons."

Breck furrowed her brows in concentration, trying to make sense of the Romans' change in decision. It took a moment to piece through all of the information she already knew but as though somebody had clocked her on the head, everything suddenly made sense to her. Breck let out a heave and shook her head, shooting a cross look in the direction of Arthur's quarters. "_This _is why you have been released prematurely. The Romans never planned to evacuate you, they merely wished to use you for their own gain. Your freedom is their leverage." She spat out.

Tristan nodded his agreement and she shook her head, making up her mind in an instant, before starting to move past him. He caught her by the waist immediately and frowned down at her. "Where do you go?" He asked.

"To speak with Arthur – I am coming with you."

"Breck – " Tristan started in agitation, a frown immediately crossing his face.

"I refuse to stand idly by and watch you ride away from me again." Breck interrupted. She paused when Galahad, Gawain, and Bors all came stalking out of the tavern but they went wordlessly by, fuming silently in their anger over the situation. "I know the Saxons – I can help." She continued on once they were alone again. "Do not restrain me now when my mission is close to being completed."

Tristan didn't look very happy with her at that moment but he didn't protest any further. She nodded at him gratefully and was just turning to go back inside to meet with Arthur when the door swung open again. Arthur stepped out, eyed Tristan's frustrated state with a curious brow, before turning his gaze on her. "Do you wish to speak with me?" He asked, noting the resolve on her face.

"Aye." Breck nodded in confirmation. "I will join you on this mission."

Arthur immediately shook his head. "You will not." He responded firmly before moving past her.

Breck shot one last glance at Tristan before hurrying after Arthur, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder and forcing him to turn and meet her gaze. "Arthur, you need me. None possesses more knowledge of the Saxons than I."

"You should _not _try my patience as of this moment." He shot at her sharply. "You will stay here and await our return."

"Arthur, if you wish for the men to survive Woad country then you _will _bring me." She informed him firmly, pulling out all of ammunition in order to convince him she should come along. "No harm will come from a Woad if I be with you. Do not allow your anger with me to force another enemy upon the men."

Arthur clenched his jaw in irritation and fell silent, his eyes turning away from her as he shook his head indignantly. Breck could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he searched for a way around her reasoning. When he finally heaved and turned his glare back on her, Breck thought she saw resignation in his green eyes. "Have it your way." Arthur finally conceded stiffly. "We leave in the morn."

Breck nodded silently and then Arthur brushed past her without another word. Finally, after watching Tristan and the men ride off into parts unknown so many times, she was going to be riding along side them. She glanced back at Arthur's retreating form before returning to her own quarters to prepare for their journey.

* * *

Her arrows were all present and accounted for, including the ones she nicked off of the Woads nearly a month ago during her travels to Alban. Her dagger lie next to the bow and arrows already present on the table and she pulled out some of the contents of her trunk until she could pull her armor out. She took a moment to stare at the glinting silver before carefully laying it out on the table next to her weapons.

Two short knocks on her door gained her attention but the curious frown on her face disappeared when she opened the door to reveal Tristan. He had her club in his hands and an unhappy expression on his face. "Your weapon." He said bluntly, offering the club to her. As she took it he eyed her weapons and armor with a frown. "You join us, then?"

Breck nodded. "Aye." She confirmed. "Are you angry with me?"

Tristan took a moment to answer, looking like he wanted to say a number of things right then. "I am displeased with your decision." He said slowly. "Facing the Saxons on our turf is quite different from seeking them out."

"I know this." Breck conceded. "But I can linger here no longer while you go to face such dangers. I am a fighter, Tristan. And the warrior in me cannot be deterred any longer."

Tristan let out a heave and stepped closer to her with a look of defeat. "The warrior in you continues to cause me turmoil." He said lowly. "But it is not my wish to contain you, nor will it ever be. I will not attempt to intervene with your choices."

Breck nodded gratefully and placed her free hand on his chest, observing how small it looked compared to the broad expansion of his torso. They were silent now and she turned her gaze up to meet his, feeling her heart hammer hard in her chest once she deciphered the look he was giving her. She was reminded in that moment that this may be the last time she and Tristan could truly be alone until after the ordeal with the Saxons was over. So with all the courage she could summon up, Breck spoke again. "Stay with me tonight." She urged quietly.

Tristan's hesitation was obvious. "Breck – " He started uneasily.

"Relax." She said with a small smile. "I merely wish to be alone with you – we may not be awarded this privacy again."

That seemed to convince Tristan because he closed his mouth and then nodded in agreement. Breck smiled and pulled him inside, closing the door behind them while trying to conceal her amusement at his obvious tension now that they were alone in her quarters. Breck set her club on the table with her weapons, which Tristan had begun to inspect, before heading over to the trunk to pull out the note she'd received from the Woads.

As Breck began searching through her trunk for her shift, Tristan began silently un-strapping his weapons and placing them on the table next to hers. She smiled at the sight of their combined weapons, finding it oddly endearing, before standing to her full height with her shift in hand. Tristan eyed the clothing before raising his eyebrows at her.

"Turn around." She commanded with quick smile.

They turned their backs on one another and Breck took a calming breath as she began working at the buttons of her dress. It was frightening, exciting, and embarrassing all at the same time to be changing in front of Tristan, but she knew this was something she would need to eventually become used to. Even though it was not going to be tonight, Breck knew that someday they would take their relationship much further. And when that time came she wanted to be completely at ease with this aspect of their relationship.

Her dress sagged around her waist and she used her shift to cover her torso, casting a look behind her to see if Tristan was complying with her demand. She flushed when she saw that he too was preparing for bed and had hung his long jacket on the back of her chair. Breck quickly pulled her shift on, stepping out of her dress completely, and then peeked at him again as he began to remove his tunic.

The amount of scars on his back and arms shouldn't have been surprising to see, but she stared at them with interest anyway. The newest looking scar was from the wound she herself had stitched up some months ago but it was only one of dozens she could currently see. Breck tilted her head as she studied him, almost becoming angry as she eyed the many attempts to end his life, and then straightened up quickly when he faced her and caught her watching him.

Breck went to her bed with a blush and began pulling back the covers, trying to fluff up the pillows to make them more comfortable as she avoided meeting his gaze again in her embarrassment. She only froze when Tristan came up behind her, then sighed and leaned against him when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

"My scars bother you?" He asked in her ear.

"They anger me." She corrected.

Tristan pressed a kiss to her shoulder before he turned her to face him and she was surprised to see a rare smile on his face before he leaned down to kiss her. Breck responded to him happily, thoroughly enjoying the heat that engulfed her as he pulled her tightly against his bare chest. His hands slid along her body over her shift and she could not contain her sound of approval at his actions, their kiss deepening as he slanted his lips over hers for better access.

"I love you." Breck whispered when they parted for air.

Tristan brushed some of her hair back from her face and gazed at her intently. "Again." He urged.

Breck grinned and pecked his lips. "I love you, Tristan."

He let out what could only be described as a contented sigh before he wrapped his arms tightly around her and dropped his head down to rest on her shoulder, embracing her with his protective arms. Breck slid her own arms around his neck and toyed with his hair, brushing a kiss over his bare shoulder before resting her chin there, happy to just _be _with him.

They finally parted and Breck lay down in bed, watching as Tristan sat on the edge to kick off his boots. Once they were off he settled back in bed next to her, donned only in his trousers. She was unsure how to go about sleeping on the small, rickety furniture for a moment as he settled in his back. When he noticed her hesitation, Tristan merely smirked and slid an arm under her neck, pulling her into his side until her head was resting comfortably on his chest. Breck yawned widely and instantly felt her body relax as she curled up against him. The rhythmic echo of his beating heart was beginning to lull her to sleep already and she rested an arm over his waist as he pulled the covers over them, breathing a kiss onto her hair as they settled down for the night.

There was absolutely no way of knowing what awaited them now. Whether they were all about to meet untimely ends or whether she and Tristan were destined to grow old and grey together, she did not know. All she could do now was cherish any time she had with Tristan, pray for the best, and do anything in her power to protect the ones that she loved.

Whatever happened with the Saxons from this point on was in God's hands now.

* * *

**A/N: Oh, em, gee. Super duper long chapter. **

**I can't even believe how long this story has gotten. I don't think I knew what I was getting myself into! It just kind of started writing itself. But I love it anyway, how about you guys?**


	31. Chapter 30

**I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck awoke the next morning feeling rested and relaxed. It had been the first time in a long time that her sleep had not been plagued by gruesome nightmares or bad memories, so long in fact that Breck had nearly forgotten what a good night's sleep felt like. But now, as she let out a deep contented sigh, she felt more rejuvenated then she had in months. That was around the time that she realized there was not only someone in her bed, but that there was also an arm resting heavily over her waist. She froze and felt her heart jump into her throat, her initial instincts screaming at her to immediately attack, but quickly relaxed when her nose registered the earthy, manly scent that belonged to Tristan (whom she now remembered staying the night with her). She sighed in relief, rolled her eyes at her own foolishness, and then turned under his arm to face him.

Tristan was lying on his side with his face towards her, his eyes still closed as he slept, and she took a moment to admire how handsome and peaceful he looked in the morning sunlight. He looked completely relaxed and she was sure this was the first time she'd ever witnessed him in such a state. Her eyes then turned to his exposed chest and she lifted herself up on an elbow with a frown, inspecting the many scars that adorned his sturdy-looking torso.

Just as she reached out to trace one that was on his arm, he suddenly cracked an eye open at her and she yanked her hand back, blushing at being caught staring at him. He only smirked though and opened both eyes to look at her, raising his eyebrows. Breck shot him a mock-glare and pushed away from him huffily, attempting to disentangle herself from both the sheets and from him. "Oh, remove the smugness from your face." She shot at him.

"Relax, woman." He grumbled, catching her around the waist and pulling her back down next to him when she almost successfully left the bed.

Before Breck knew it, she found herself on her back with Tristan halfway on top of her. She almost complimented him on how quickly he could move but decided against it when she took note of his smug expression. She met his self-satisfied smirk with a stern expression of her own, trying to feign that she was unimpressed with actions. "Pleased with yourself, are you?" She asked haughtily.

Tristan didn't answer. He merely leaned down so he could brush his lips over hers. As always, the scratch of his beard against her lips and face made a jolt shoot through her, but the kiss was over before it really began and she frowned in disappointment as he pulled his lips away from hers. Tristan gazed at her steadily, not moving even an inch away from her, before his eyes flickered downwards to the neckline of her shift. She almost tensed (though she wasn't sure if it was because of nervousness or excitement) when his hand neared the tie of her sleeping gown, but relaxed when he bypassed it and instead reached for the leather string that made up her father's necklace.

Breck watched him curiously as he pulled the iron medallion free from beneath her shift and then brought it up to eyelevel in order to inspect it. "It belonged to my father." Breck said, raising a hand to glide a finger over it. "My mother gifted it to him the day of their wedding."

"What is the meaning of this symbol?" He asked.

"Tis our clan – mine and my mother's people."

He nodded and set it gently back onto her sternum. Breck smiled up at him when he met her gaze again and then reached up to trail a finger over the tattoo adorning his left cheek, then the one on his right. Tristan must have understood the question in her eyes because he answered her before she could even ask. "Symbols of my tribe." He said simply.

He leaned his cheek into her touch and she wondered at the difference between public-Tristan and private-Tristan. Amongst their friends and the townsfolk he was guarded and almost treated her more like a comrade rather then his woman, but in their moments of privacy he acted in a completely different manner. Other women may have been frustrated with the changes in his behavior, but Breck couldn't bring herself to mind. She liked that she was the only one allowed to see him like this – relaxed, calm, even loving.

He moved to kiss her again but the door to her room unexpectantly swung open before he could. Tristan tensed defensively as they both turned their attention to the door but then relaxed when he saw that it was only Galahad, glaring at him for his intrusion instead. The young knight stalked in, completely oblivious to the fact that Tristan was in her bed, and began spouting out information while fastening the ties of his tunic.

"Arthur calls for you." He grumbled, still looking displeased from the night before. "We leave for the bloody Romans in – "

"Perhaps now is not the proper moment?" Breck interrupted, irritated with their friends' knack for having the worst timing in the world.

Galahad finally looked up and then froze, his eyes widening as he spotted a half-naked Tristan lying mostly on top of a scantily clad Breck. "Oh…I…" His cheeks began to flush red. "Oh." He said before turning to quickly leave. "Stables as soon as possible." Galahad called before slamming the door behind him in his departure.

Breck laughed over the way Galahad had reacted before gently pushing Tristan to the side so she could get up, their moment effectively ruined now. He rolled off of her, though he looked regretful to do so, and she felt his eyes on her back as she stood from the bed to stretch. "Lady Luck jests again…" Breck said with a shake of her head. She glanced down at Tristan, who seemed content to lie in her bed and watch her move about the room, before glancing pointedly at his things. "We should hurry – Arthur hates me enough without provoking him further."

"Not you, your tenacity." He corrected as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his body to alertness before reaching for the boots he'd discarded the night before.

Breck 'hmph'ed and reached for her trousers, pulling them on quickly underneath her shift. "Tenacity had forever been in my blood. He should be well acquainted with it now." She quipped before turning her back on him to change into her tunic.

Her bed squeaked as Tristan stood up and she could hear the thud of his boots as he made his way over to her table. Breck took a moment to admire the broad expanse of his back and then almost frowned in regret when he reached for his tunic. The man really was a sight to behold and she couldn't help but feel disappointed when he shrugged his tunic back on and quickly did the ties. "What be this?" Tristan asked curiously, pulling her from her reverie.

There was a small piece of parchment clutched within his hand now, letting her know he'd found the letter from the Woads. "_That _is the reason your news found me unsurprised yester night." She informed him. "I received that the very night you took your leave."

Tristan began musing over the words of Merlin's note, becoming lost in his thoughts and probably mulling over the same questions that had been bothering her. Breck turned her back on him again and grasped the end of her shift, only fidgeting with the hem for a moment before she pulled it up and over her head. A glance over her shoulder let her know she had caught his attention again; the letter in his hands was forgotten as his eyes scanned the length of her bare back. She wasn't sure if his intense gaze was because he was looking upon her bare skin or because he was seeing her own collection of scars for the first time, but revealing the wounds of her past felt right and she offered him a small smirk.

"My scars bother you?" She asked, echoing his words from the previous night as she covered her chest with her shift.

Tristan set the letter down and then slowly walked over to her, reaching a hand out to trail his fingers over a few select marks on her back. Breck suppressed the shiver this movement produced and let him inspect her, not completely sure what his expression meant at that moment. "So many…" He said lowly.

"I told you – I am a fighter." Breck reminded him. She turned to face him, firmly keeping her shift against her chest with one hand while pointing to the scar beneath her collarbone with her other. Tristan's eyes followed her movement and he frowned, eyeing the scar interestedly. "This holds the greatest importance." She told him. "I obtained it the night my mother died."

"The night of the ambush?" Tristan added, his words sounding more like a statement then a question.

"Aye." Breck confirmed. "I was barely six." She revealed to him. A dark look crossed his face but he concealed it quickly, nodding to her stiffly before turning to head back to the table in order to collect his weapons. Breck used his momentary distraction to finish dressing and then went to him, placing a hand on his tense back as she came to stand before him. He met her gaze steadily and it was easy to see the maliciousness in his gaze. "You are angry?" Breck asked unsurely.

"Not with you." He clarified. "I wish to kill him."

"That is _my _duty." Breck reminded him.

Tristan smirked and the look in his eyes made her question his sanity in that moment. "We shall see."

There was no use arguing with him over the matter and they didn't have the time to anyway. So instead she shot him a terse look and then reached for her armor, beginning to attempt to tie it on until Tristan brushed her hands away and finished the task himself. Once she was suited up, she began strapping her weapons to herself wordlessly. As was the case many instances before, the time for romance was coming to an end and she quickly stowed away the memory of her night with him. For all she knew, this could be the last time they were together like this in a long while…if ever.

She quickly closed her mind to that thought and turned to face Tristan again. He stepped forward and reached towards her neck, slipping a finger under her armor to pull her father's necklace free before he laid it neatly against her chest. He seemed pleased with the picture she presented and gazed at her with a proud look. That was when she decided that if there was ever an opportune moment to gift him with her father's necklace, it was then. Breck watched his brows furrow as she reached up to remove the necklace and then smiled at his surprise when she placed it around his own neck.

"Tis family tradition for the women to gift the men they love with something they hold dear. As means of a promise." She explained, very much liking the way the medallion looked resting against his chest. Then she met his eyes again. "The man need only accept."

Tristan's response was to wrap a hand into her braided hair and kiss her, letting her feel all of the urgency and need and affection that he had for her in that one movement. Her knees felt cautiously unstable as she returned his kiss and she was glad that he was supporting her – she surely would have toppled over when he pulled back to watch her intently with darkened eyes. "I accept." He murmured huskily.

Breck grinned at him happily and he actually smiled at her in return. Then they shared one more long kiss, knowing fully well this would probably be the last time they would have this uninterrupted privacy once they left the Wall and, eventually, faced Cerdic's army.

* * *

The trek through town to get to the stables had garnered Breck far more attention then it usually did. Of course, her arms and torso _were _completely covered in her armor and she was loaded to the teeth with weapons. So to say that her appearance had caused a bit of a stir to go through town was an understatement if she'd ever heard it (the club she held in her hands sent a few children running in the opposite direction). Tristan had needed to return to his room to suit up and collect a few of his weapons so she had continued on ahead without him, finding that the stables were already busy with the impending departure.

Arthur eyed her when she walked in and she nodded at him, continuing on to collect her saddle and begin preparing Lugh. "Breck, there you are." Gawain said, hopping up from the benches. "Here, for you." He said, thrusting what appeared to be a sheath of some sort into her hands. "It belongs to your new club."

Breck smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Gawain." She said before setting down her club and beginning to strap the new sheath onto her back.

"Allow me." He offered, moving around to her back so he could attach it properly. There was a buckle in the front that had to be attached and he was standing before her again, his fingers working quickly at securing the sheath to her torso. He paused when he finished, watching her slide the club into his holster, and then a tiny smile appeared on the corner of his lips. "You look…" He trailed off, releasing a long breath.

Breck was just beginning to feel uncomfortable under his gaze, having seen such a look in his eyes before, but he turned away quickly in the next moment without finishing his statement and hurried back to finish preparing. A glance towards the door let her know that Tristan had arrived. He eyed Gawain with an unreadable expression before making his way towards her. Her father's necklace was resting on top of his armored tunic, clear as day for everyone to see, but the men said nothing in response and only shot each other looks as he passed by.

Breck shook her head when he quirked an eyebrow at her and grasped her saddle, heading over to Lugh. She had no idea if Gawain still had feelings for her or not, but now was not the time to dwell over such inquiries. There were far more important things to worry about – like surviving. Besides, Gawain knew very well where her heart lay and she was confident he would never do anything to jeopardize her relationship with Tristan, nor their own friendship.

When the bishop arrived a few minutes later, his eyes scanned the gathering of men before they landed firmly on her. This was the first time she had been presented with the man that had betrayed her friends and she stared him down coolly, narrowing her eyes in distrust as his became enlightened with curiosity. From the corner of her eye she saw Tristan stiffen, but Bors' hand on his shoulder kept him stationary by the benches.

"Who is she?" Bishop Germanius asked Arthur with interest.

"None of your concern." He said icily.

Well, it was at least encouraging to know that Arthur wasn't so mad that he was no longer protective of her.

Breck turned her back on the Roman, not comfortable with his scrutiny, and let herself into Lugh's stall without a backward glance. She tuned out the words that Bishop Germanius had to say to the men, instead focusing on getting her saddle secured to Lugh while she spoke to him softly in Gaelic. "Another journey for us, my sweet." She whispered to him, patting his nose. "We must stay strong. Our mission is nearly complete."

Lugh whinnied and she patted his nose lovingly before leading him out of the stall by his reigns. The men had dispersed again – those who had not suited up yet were pulling on their armor while others were beginning to mount their horses. Jols, she noticed, was saddling a spare horse and she cast a strange look to the odd man working under the bishop. He looked fidgety and nervous, so she assumed he was joining them on their trip and was not overly thrilled about it. When she realized the bishop still had his eyes on her, she was greatly filled with the temptation to scorn him for his blatant leer. Instead, she held her tongue when Tristan trotted over and took his place between her and Bishop Germanius, coldly glaring at the Roman from his perch atop of Azia. The meaning behind his stance was hard to mistake and the bishop scowled before turning on his heel to leave.

"You will steer clear of him." Tristan commanded lowly as she mounted Lugh. Breck only nodded her consent.

Soon enough they were leaving the fort and, once they were on the open plains of Briton, they all fell silent and concentrated on getting to their destination as quickly as possible. Chatter was minimal, due to both the fast gallop of their horses and the sour mood of the knights, and the tension hanging around the group was so thick that she was sure she could have cut it with her dagger. They were anxious, they were stressed, and they were all angry with the turn of events – that much was obvious. She only hoped that she could make their journey easier by protecting them from the Woads that surely awaited them.

Later on in the day when she saw that they were nearing the tree line, she maneuvered Lugh from her spot in front of Tristan and hurried forward, clicking her tongue to make Lugh quicken his pace. The men shot her strange, almost incredulous looks as she hurried past them but she only acknowledged Arthur when Lugh fell in synch with his horse at the front of the line. He seemed to know why she had come to join him and said nothing in protest.

It was difficult to keep track of the time once they were in the forest – between the dark trees and the sporadic rain everything seem as dark as the night, but the late afternoon lighting that peeked through the trees here and there was welcome and at least provided sort of visibility within the dense forest. Breck knew all too well that they were being watched as they made their way through the trees, just as they had been ever since entering, but also knew that they were riding in the opposite direction of Merlin's camp. His earlier letter about the arrival of more Woads came forward in her thoughts and she pursed her lips as she eyed the trees, hoping beyond hope that these new Woads knew they were allies and not foes.

They slowed their pace eventually to give their horses a break from the hasty, tiresome pace and Breck turned her eyes to the surrounding trees in concentration. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the way the Woads travelled or maybe her eyesight had improved, but she could clearly see Woads running amongst the trees surrounding them. She frowned when she noticed they were wielding weapons and shields and glanced over at Tristan as he suddenly appeared next to her. A nod in the direction she had seen the Woads alerted Tristan to their presence.

"Woads." He said to Arthur, turning his attention to the Roman. "They are tracking us."

"Where?" Arthur asked.

"Everywhere."

The Sarmatians behind her were clearly uncomfortable and on high alert; Breck herself was even beginning to feel uneasy with the current situation. The thunder and lightening overhead signaled the impending arrival of rain and did nothing to help ease their tension. She tightened her grip on Lugh' reigns, casting a wary glare out into the trees. Should see call out to the Woads?

"Breck." Arthur said to catch her attention. He only nodded at her though, as if telling her to go about her business.

Breck nodded at him in understanding. Remembering that the Gaelic language of her forebears had saved her hide once before, she turned her attention back to the trees to face the strange Woads. "We are no foe!" She called to them, using her mother's language. "We mean you no harm!"

"Wha's she shoutin' about?" Bors asked indignantly. "Hush, girl! Before you alert every Woad within earshot!"

"Do you hear me?" Breck called again, ignoring Bors. "We are allies of – "

The path in front of Arthur, which had previously just been clear, suddenly was closed off from them by an intricate weaving of thick, thorn-ridden vines. The hiss of arrows shooting through the air reached her ears and the group was immediately roused to attention, Arthur pulling sharply on the reigns of his horse to avoid running headfirst into the blockade. She realized when she looked around that the arrows were not aiming for them, but rather attached to the vines that were now beginning to entrap them. The men didn't hesitate a moment longer before taking off as a group to try and find a way out of the impending ambush.

"Breck, come!" Dagonet shouted to her.

Breck glared at one of the Woads in the trees for a long moment, the blue man making no attempt to harm her, and then took off after the knights.

Every path they attempted to take ended up being blocked in some manner – either more thorny vines would appear or walls of sharp, spear tipped fences would pop up from the very ground to halt their forward motions. It was chaos as the men shouted back forth to one another, trying to guide themselves through the attack. Breck tried to call to the Woads to reason with them, especially when they began firing arrows into the group, and drew her own bow and arrow in case she needed to use it as she trailed after the men.

"This way!" Arthur commanded.

The group of them took off down a narrow path and it seemed like they may be covering some ground until a group of a dozen or so Woads came rushing forward to meet them, wielding spears and sword as their battle cries filled the air. Breck glowered at them and whipped Lugh around to head in the other direction, trying to keep and eye on the Woads while also checking the knights for any signs of injury. Currently, everyone seemed unharmed. As they road back to the original staging place for the ambush, they came to a halt and were presented with the sight of the Woads archers that had boxed them in, foot soldiers filing in from every possible angle as they were surrounded. The men all drew their swords, prepared to fight, and regarded their foe intently as they awaited their charge.

As it fell silent, Breck decided to take one last attempt to negotiate with the Woads around them. "Cease this madness!" She cried out to them in common-tongue.

"Breck – " Lancelot said in warning.

"I am the Celt, Breck!" She called out. "Merlin is my ally! Discontinue your attack or risk breaching our alliance!"

The men were deathly silent now and time seemed to freeze as her words hung in the air around them. Some Woads began to slowly lower their weapons but the majority of them continued to regard them hostilely, their weapons still held at the ready with an obvious want to attack. At long last, just when she was sure the tension would make _someone _snap, a horn sounded deep in the forest somewhere. Though the Woads heard it, only a few backed off. When it sounded a second time, however, the remainder of the strange, blue-painted people all lowered their weapons and began to wordlessly disappear back into the forest until they were alone once more.

Arthur turned to face her and offered her a nod, his approval apparent. She returned it and finally lowered her bow, slinging it back into place on her back as she returned her arrow to its quiver. When she turned her gaze out amongst the men, all but Tristan were looking at her in complete shock and befuddlement.

"It would appear," Lancelot said slowly, trotting towards her with a dark expression on his face, "you have _much _explaining to do, dear lady."

* * *

By nightfall they had made camp just near the edge of the tree line, staying within the darkness of the trees but close enough to the edge of the forest that they could make a hasty escape if they needed to. The men had continued to regard her with open skepticism as they made their way through the Woad forest and now, as a fire was started and the men began to pile in around it, Breck knew she would not be able to fend off their questions for long.

Breck heaved as she tied Lugh up next to Azia and then patted his flank. What was she supposed to tell them? How would they react if they knew what she'd been planning with Tristan and Arthur all this time? She turned her eyes up to the sky, barely able to see the stars through the dense fog and thick trees, and said a silent prayer to God that her friends would not hold anything against her after this night.

Breck went to the fire then and sat down between Tristan and Bors, accepting the bit of food that her Sarmatian offered her with a grateful nod. The men were staring at her, waiting for her to speak, and she met their gazes slowly before taking a large bite of food.

"Come on with it, then." She said around the bread in her mouth.

There was only a beat of silence before someone finally spoke up. "Why in the _bloody hell _would you side with Merlin?" Galahad blurted out. "Are you insane?"

The men voiced their agreement and she sighed, toying with the food in her hands. "It is…complicated." Breck said, struggling to find the right words.

"Uncomplicate it, then." Gawain prodded.

"The alliance was made on my travels some weeks past." She revealed. "Made first to ensure my own survival in Woad country, then out of necessity due to...a change in circumstances." She continued to explain. "He has agreed to aid us in our fight against the Saxons."

A murmur broke out amongst the men at her revelation. "_Us_?" Gawain asked, turning his gaze on Tristan.

"She has no choice in the matter." Tristan said with a note of finality, ending whatever argument may come from the knowledge of his involvement.

"And what of Arthur?" Lancelot asked irritably. "Have you involved him in this mess as well?"

Breck glanced over to where Arthur was privately speaking with Jols and then nodded. "He offered his services – I accepted."

"You, Tristan, Arthur, and the Woads plan to fight the Saxon army." Dagonet clarified, as though making sure everyone were on the same page in this discussion. "And you did not think to inform us?"

"I did not wish to involve you." Breck defended quickly. "This is not your fight."

"So you choose the Woads aid before ours?" Galahad asked, looking offended. "You think us so incapable?"

"That is not the way of it." Breck defended.

"It would appear to be." The young Sarmatian shot back.

"Galahad – " Tristan began to interject.

"You are my friend, a friend I hold very dear." Galahad continued, ignoring Tristan as he looked at her in indignation. "Woman, you are a friend to us all, not to mention or pre-existing allegiance to Arthur and Tristan – how can we stand idly by and allow you three to send yourselves into the icy hands of death?"

Gawain and Bors began speaking at the same time, loudly voicing their agreement with Galahad's argument. Lancelot eventually began to interject comments here and there and Breck pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to take the concerned berating. Eventually, though, their words and anger became too much for her to handle and she jumped to her feet with blazing eyes. The men fell silent, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"Understand the stress already upon me." She snapped at then, meeting each man's gaze. "Arthur, who is _family _to me, wishes to put his life on the line." Then she gestured to Tristan. "The man I _love _puts himself directly in harm's way and there is naught I can do to stop either of them. Should death meet either man, _never _shall I forgive myself – and this is how I feel in regards to each of you." This seemed to stun them into silence, because no one was speaking up now. "You have finally earned your freedom, not another battle that is not of your choosing. If you wish to help, you will ease our stress and leave this island."

With that being said, she gazed around at her silent friends for good measure and then stalked away from the fire. She bypassed Arthur and Jols, who tried to stop her to ask questions, and then stomped her way out of the forest to grant herself a bit of privacy. She crossed her arms with a heave, staring out at the rolling, open plains before her, and then shook her head as she mulled over the conversation that had just taken place.

Breck had expected them to react like this, but how could they question her in such a way? The fact that Galahad truly believed she'd chosen the Woads over them hurt. She respected and cared for the men and she only wanted to protect them. It had never been a matter of questioning their adequacy in battle or loyalty to her, Tristan, and Arthur. Then she thought of the way Lancelot had been looking at her throughout the whole conversation and scowled, shaking her head again in frustration. The man was fiercely loyal to Arthur and had looked at her so accusingly, just as he had the night they returned from collecting the bishop. If he had been planning an intervention of any kind, now he surely was going to present a problem, she just knew it.

Some time later, the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention and she was not surprised when Tristan came to stand next to her. He was silent as he too looked out amongst the scenery for a stretch of time until turning his eyes down to her. Breck glanced at him and then huffed, returning her gaze to the landscape.

"They are concerned."

"Understood." Breck responded.

"Breck..."

Breck sighed and finally faced him. "I know." She admitted. "This shall be resolved, but on the morrow. I am too irritable to bear the brunt of another argument this night."

Tristan nodded his understanding. "The men are retiring." He said, changing the subject. "Go and rest. I shall take first watch."

Breck shook her head. "No, you rest. I do not tire. My thoughts must first be sorted before I can rest." She urged, nodding for him to go back to the camp.

"You are sure?"

She nodded and then offered him a half-attempted smile when he kissed her temple in parting.

Once she was alone again, she took a seat at the base of one of the trees and withdrew her sword, keeping it firmly within her grasp as she settled in for her watch.

It took a while, but after an hour or so she finally managed to push her frustration to the side. She understood the concern on the men's part, but now was _not_ the time for arguments like these. Whenever this business with the Roman family was resolved, or at least when they were back within the safety of the Wall (God permitting), they could yell and berate her all they wanted to. But right now they needed to focus on getting the Roman family and staying alive.

The Saxons could not be very far away now and were drawing closer and closer by the hour. It would not be much longer before the vast army was upon them, maybe even sooner then anyone could have predicted. The knowledge of it made her hands shake a bit in anticipation and she fisted one of her hands, bringing it up to rest against her lips as she tried to calm the adrenaline rushing in her veins.

She felt like she could see Cerdic himself standing before her right then. She could picture his long hair, his long beard, his large and imposing frame. He had to know she awaited him now and Breck smirked to herself when she imagined the expression he might have when he was finally faced with her – her, the little half-Saxon that he had never managed to kill, would be there to fight him. There were so many things she wished to say to him, but was the man even worth her words?

No, the only thing he'd earned from her would eventually deliver him into his eternal sleep.

A movement to her right caught her eye and she was on her feet in a flash, sword wielded before her and ready to strike. But when the moon broke through the clouds for a split second, she recognized the thin and wispy figure standing some fifteen yards away from her and sheathed her sword again, her defense melting away as irritation took its place. She had no idea how the old man had gotten here so fast, but now that he was there he was going to hear everything she had to say. She wanted answers and she was going to get them.

He watched her steadily as she stalked up to him, looking passive. "Merlin." She practically snapped once she was close enough for him to hear, glad the knights were not within earshot.

"Breck, before you speak – "

"No, before _you _speak you will hear me." She said, pointing in his face in indignation. There was no guard with him for what she could see and she was glad – they probably would have shot her full of arrows by now. "Arthur may not be your ally, but _I _am. Why would you knowingly ambush the men? What be the meaning of your attacks?"

"A test." He said simply.

Of all the things he could have said, that had not been what she was expecting. "Test?" She shot back at him in disbelief.

He nodded once. "You claimed your Roman does not kill for pleasure – it was his opportunity to prove himself."

Breck fell silent, thinking over what he had said carefully. Obviously Merlin was considering siding with her friend if he was willing to go to such lengths. So why could he have not staged a meeting like a normal person? "Why attack, then? Why not hold council with him?" She asked, voicing her inner thoughts.

"Do you believe he would have agreed?"

He had a point. Breck didn't answer him – instead, she crossed her arms and stared him down. "What be your opinion on Arthur then?"

"He spared my man." Merlin mused. "And did not retaliate in the forest." Then he inclined his head to her. "For many years, I believed him my enemy but see now who my true enemy is." He said.

Breck immediately felt hope well up within her. "You wish to side with him?" She asked.

Merlin only nodded.

"I thank you, Merlin. A thousand times."

Breck could have hugged or kissed the skinny man just then, hardly able to contain her joy at the turn of events. If Merlin was willing to work past their differences, perhaps Arthur would be as well – it could only make things easier for them. She knew the two men would have to speak to one another at some point but knew she needed to reason with Arthur first, which might prove to be easier said then done seeing as things were still rocky between the two of them.

With a made up mind, Breck nodded (more to herself then to Merlin) and quickly devised a plan in her head. "We shall return to the Wall day after the morrow – I shall find time to talk sense into Arthur and make camp near yours on the journey home. Ready yourself to meet with him."

* * *

**A/N: I don't want to toot my own horn, but I feel like all of the little details in the movie that were never elaborated on are integrating perfectly into my story. So…toot toot.**

**Thoughts?**


	32. Chapter 31

**I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

Breck only lingered to speak with Merlin for a short while after he agreed to council with Arthur. He informed her that the Woads' numbers had increased significantly over the past few days, she told him of Rome's withdrawal from Briton, and then they both agreed that the Woads needed to begin making their way south in preparation for the impending attack. Before they parted she had finally asked Merlin how he'd managed to catch up with them so quickly, but the man had only cryptically informed her he had come to 'observe a precarious situation' and then disappeared back into the trees without another word.

Thanks to the sporadic thunderstorms the day before, the temperature had dropped significantly overnight as she slept. Her cold, metal armor was doing nothing to help the iciness seeping into her bones and she shivered as she looked around in confusion from her spot at the base of a large tree. Where had Tristan gone off to? He'd been the one who had relieved her of her watch but she could have sworn he'd come back to sleep next to her once his was finished. Breck stood and glanced around the camp, frowning when she realized Tristan was nowhere in sight.

She shivered again and then quickly marched over to Lugh, fishing around in her bag until she could pull out her father's thick cloak and attach it around her neck. It helped, but not as much as she would have wanted. A glance to her left presented her with the image of the men huddling in around a freshly made fire and she caught Galahad not-so-subtly staring at her. She considered joining them to begin smoothing things over with her friends, but decided against it when she spotted Arthur standing by himself and pouring over a map.

_Well, _she thought to herself,_ I shall have to convince him to speak to Merlin at some point...best to make amends now before I provoke his anger again_.

Breck took a deep, courageous breath and then made her way towards him with squared shoulders, determined that today was the day they would overcome their spat. He barely looked up from his map when she approached and she spotted a very concentrated look on his face once she could see it. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and then turned his gaze back down. "You caused quite a stir yester night." He said impassively.

"Aye. I was left with no alternative in the matter – the men wished for answers and I could not lie." She said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Yes, well, at least now they are informed of your secret doings." Arthur shot back, his gaze locked on the map before him.

The tone of his words was not overlooked and Breck sighed before she moved to stand directly in front of him, pushing the map down with one hand so he was forced to meet her stare. "Arthur, how long must I grovel for until you have mercy?" She asked him. "If you have forgotten, the whole of the Saxon army will likely be upon us in a matter of _days_."

Arthur stared at her silently before he looked down and began rolling up his map. "I realize."

"Arthur, listen to me." Breck said, stepping forward and placing her hands on his shoulders. His eyes rose up to meet hers and she gave him a determined look, resisting the urge to shake him in hopes it may jostle some sense into him. "Do I regret keeping you in the shadows on such a delicate matter? Aye, I do. But would my decisions differ if offered the chance to alter them? No." Breck admitted. Arthur didn't look pleased with the way her speech was going but she continued on anyway. "I was unthoughtful, I was selfish, and I was wrong for betraying your trust. But without this alliance, the Saxons would have us be their supper – assuming we had even cleared Woad country alive to be able to face the bastards."

Breck removed her hands from his shoulder and watched him carefully for his reaction. Arthur's expression was hard to discern as his green eyes bore steadily into her own blue ones, but eventually he released a deep breath and shifted his weight. "As deeply as I detest Merlin, your alliance with him _has _proven useful." He finally conceded, though he didn't look happy to do so. His eyes searched her questioningly before he spoke again. "What is it you ask of me?"

"Presently? Your forgiveness." She said simply. "Arthur, I have forever considered you my brother. Should any ill-fate find us before we had a chance to make amends…" Breck trailed off, not wanting to voice the words but trying to convey to him the amount of regret she would feel in such a scenario.

Arthur understood regardless and nodded, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "Plead no more – my forgiveness is yours." She let out a sigh of relief and pulled him into a hug, her arms tightening around his neck as his own came to wrap firmly around her waist. "But what, pray tell, might you ask of me in the future?" He grumbled in her ear slowly, sounding like he didn't want to know the answer.

"Might I enjoy our reconciliation a moment longer?" She asked hopefully.

"Breck…" Arthur chastised, pulling back so he could glare at her sternly.

Breck pursed her lips, staring at him uncertainly. "He wishes to meet with you." She revealed. Before he could respond, she put her hands up and spoke quickly. "I shall not force you to do so." She promised him. "I only ask that you consider it."

Arthur shook his head, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as his eyes squeezed shut for a moment in his exasperation. Once he had collected himself, he dropped his hand and opened his eyes to stare at her in resignation. "God works in the most mysterious of manners." He mused, turning his eyes out to the trees as though expecting Merlin to make an appearance at any moment.

"Why do you say this?" She asked curiously.

"I find myself considering meeting with the man responsible for my mother's death." He responded bluntly, seemingly none-too-pleased with the turn of events.

Arthur might have looked completely composed at the moment but Breck knew this had not been an easy decision for him to come to. The man had hated Merlin for years but was trusting of her enough to at least think about discussing an alliance with him; it might not have seemed a huge accomplishment to many but she knew exactly how monumental this moment had been. The Woads were already going to fight with them but they would be even stronger if Arthur and Merlin were able to coordinate together – this conversation had proven to be a step in the right direction. She smile up at him comfortingly and then patted him on the cheek, trying to lighten the mood a little bit as Arthur began to brood.

"I would _never _lead you astray." She promised.

"As I like to believe." He said pointedly, waving her hand away as though it were a nagging fly. "How came you to possess such powers of manipulation?" He asked, staring at her suspiciously.

Breck shrugged. "Just lucky, I presume."

Arthur immediately rolled his eyes. "Do _not _start with the talk of Celtic luck…" He muttered, turning on his heel quickly to leave before she could begin her tirade on her ancestor's notorious knack for opportunism.

She laughed and turned her eyes up to the sky for a moment, saying a quick thanks to God now that she and Arthur had settled their differences, then quickly followed after him. "Where is Tristan?" Breck asked when she caught up to him.

"I sent him to scout the roads leading away from the Roman estate. I need to know which routes are occupied by Saxons and which are not." Arthur explained. Breck frowned immediately. Tristan had gone searching after Saxons _alone_? Arthur must have seen her incredulous look because he shook his head and smirked. "It is his duty and he is no novice – he will be fine. He will reconvene with us at the estate this afternoon."

Then she realized that if Tristan was able to locate the army and reconvene with them in only a matter of hours, then the Saxons couldn't be very far away at all. She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded her understanding to Arthur before hurrying over to the fire, plopping down onto the ground in front of it. She was quickly reminded of her spat with the men when they all immediately fell silent and Breck eyed each of them warily, noting the guilty expressions on a few of their faces (namely, Galahad). Dagonet was nearest to her and gazed at Breck with a rueful smile at the corner of his lips, before he too glanced around at his comrades. It appeared the men wanted to say something but no one was willing to be the first to speak.

"Oh, to Hell with it." Bors said loudly, drawing the attention of the group. "We're only bloody unhappy about this nonsense with the Saxons, not with you. Thank you for your concern," he said, softening his voice only momentarily before he was loudly blabbering away again, "but bloody well tell us next time." He finished.

Most of the men were trying hard to smother their smiles now due to Bors outburst and turned expecting eyes on her to gauge her reaction. Breck herself was attempting to suppress her own smirk of amusement and nodded, clearing her throat quickly. "Noted." She said. "It will _not _happen again."

"Bloody right it won't." Bors rebutted with a tone of finality.

The tension around them had eased considerably, the mood lightening now that Bors had effectively aired out all of the dirty laundry from the previous night. The easiness was short lived, though, because Arthur joined them with a commanding look on his face – a look that told them their break was finished and that it was time to get back to work. "Enjoy the warmth of that fire while you can – we leave in a half hour."

* * *

After riding for another couple of hours, they eventually came upon a large road that was flanked by dense forestry on either side. It wound around throughout the trees until it finally opened up to a large, open plain of land that sat at the base of the neighboring mountains. Smoke could be seen coming from the nearby houses as they neared the clearly Roman estate and Breck took the opportunity to glance around at her surroundings. The land itself looked plush and taken care of and very, very Roman, but the people who worked it look gaunt and dirty and almost helpless as they made their way past them. She frowned, thinking that they looked similar to the people inhabiting Melcon's village up north.

Up ahead was the gate that would lead up to the Roman's quarters but before they could enter, the guards commanded that it be shut. The group was forced to a halt and turned their attention upward when they were addressed. "Who are you?" One of the Roman guards called down.

"I am Arthur Castus, Commander of the Sarmatian Knights, sent by Bishop Germanius of Rome – open the gate." Arthur commanded.

As the guards moved to do so, Breck could not help but survey the steadily growing crowd with a bit of apprehension. The way they were watching them, the blatant gawk on their faces, was making her feel extremely uncomfortable. And judging by the way the expressions on the others' faces, she wasn't the only one, either.

The gates opened again and the Roman landowner came waltzing out, speaking to the knights with a great flourish of his hands. The knights moved in closer to him as he and Arthur began to converse but Breck hung back, glancing around at the villagers with as much curiosity as they were regarding her. Some women whispered behind their hands, pointing at her not so discreetly, but the look on their faces was more awed then anything. She pried her eyes away from a little girl that reminded her far too much of herself at that age and looked back in the direction they had come, searching for any sign of Tristan. Where might he be?

Breck turned forward again and began eyeing the mountains around them with caution. The air in this place didn't feel right. It felt…imposing, like how the atmosphere would feel in the calm before a raging storm. She could practically feel the tension weighing in on her and tightened her grip on Lugh's reigns for some sense of security, half expecting the Saxons to come rushing over the mountain at any moment.

"Well, you're about to give it to the _Saxons_."

The mention of her enemy brought her attention back to the conversation before her and she shook her head, trying to clear her cluttered mind.

"They're invading from the north." Arthur said to the man before him.

"Then Rome will send an army." The Roman man smugly replied, looking fairly confident in his words.

"They have – us. We leave as soon as you are packed." Breck was relieved to hear it. This place felt like nothing but one gigantic trap and she didn't want to linger there any longer then necessary.

"I refuse to leave." The Roman said firmly.

A tense silence followed and Breck watched the disbelief and annoyance that arose on the faces of the Sarmatians, feeling the same irritation rising up within her. Was this man a moron? Had he not understood what Arthur had just said to him? Surely he had to realize that if he and his family stayed where they were then it would only bring death upon them. Galahad shook his head with a heave, looking back at her in complete annoyance, and she responded in kind at the Roman's idiotic decision.

"Go back to work – all of you!" He shouted at the villagers around them.

Breck's eyes narrowed as the Roman guards began to push and shove the villagers back into the fields, yelling at them and demanding that they resume business as usual. It was no business of hers if the lord wanted to treat those who worked under him like trash, but it still wasn't something she liked to see; she knew it would only cause problems if she spoke up so she merely shook her head in disapproval and kept her mouth firmly shut. She watched as Arthur dismounted his horse and went right up to the Roman to address him more privately, but seeing as she couldn't hear him she turned her attention elsewhere. The villagers had gone back to their duties now, but when her eyes landed on an old, shirtless man chained up to some wooden contraption, the frown on her face only deepened.

Something strange was going on here – why in the world would this old man be chained up in such a way? The Roman family was making their way back inside (presumably to pack) and Breck turned a suspicious gaze on Roman's back. What was this man up to? Arthur must have noticed her uneasiness because he cast a look behind him before furrowing his brows up at her again. "Breck?" He called, also making the men turned to stare at her.

He had caught her attention but she said nothing in response, merely turned her eyes pointedly in the direction of the old man. Arthur's frown was immediate as he followed her gaze and he hesitated for only a heartbeat before striding over to collect his sword. The men grumbled when he began purposefully making his way towards the old man but Breck clicked her tongue to send Lugh forward, following behind Arthur quickly. One of the villagers had begun talking away in Arthur's ear but her concern were the Roman guards that resided there and their obvious displeasure with Arthur's meddling.

Arthur had made it to the old man when two of the guards looked like they may intervene. Breck pulled Lugh to a halt in front of them, cutting off their path, and glared down at them icily. "I suggest you remain where you stand." She growled at them.

One opened his mouth to say something in retaliation until Bors appeared beside her horse, sword drawn and ready. The Sarmatian didn't even have to say anything in warning for the guards to understand that if they wanted to get to her, they'd have to go through him first. Without a word, the two Roman guards turned and stalked away. Breck inclined her head to Bors, who only muttered out a half-heart 'you're welcome' in response.

"Who is this man?" Arthur asked the crowd, gathering her and Bors' attention.

"He's our village elder." Answered the man that had been talking to him – Ganis is what she thought she'd heard him introduce himself as.

"What is this punishment for?" When his question was met with silence, he spoke again impatiently. "Answer me." Arthur practically growled.

"He defied our master, Marius." Ganis started. "Most of the food we grow is sent out by sea to be sold. He asked that we keep a little more for ourselves, that's all. My arse has been snappin' at the grass, I'm so hungry!" Ganis explained, his voice rising in indignation. "You're from Rome. Is it true that Marius is a spokesman for God and that it's a sin to defy him?"

Having converted to Christianity as a child and only growing stronger in her faith as an adult, these words deeply disturbed her. Arthur had always attested to how civilized and orderly Rome was, but her travels had enlightened her otherwise – she knew all too well of the greedy and unmerciful ways of the Romans, and this was the glaring proof. The old man was clearly only trying to find a way to better their quality of life – and he had received punishment in return? The fact that the Roman (Marius was his name) used God as his leverage to carry out such acts only angered her further. Arthur was deathly silent, mulling over the villager's words as well, until he turned his eyes up to her with furrowed eyebrows. Breck could tell he was debating interfering and she nodded her head once in agreement, shooting him a look that clearly said the situation needed to be dealt with.

Arthur seemed to make his mind up in an instant. "I tell you now – Marius is _not_ of God. And you, all of you, were free from your first breath!" With that being said he cut the old man's chains, earning audible gasps from the crowd. "Help this man. Help him!" Arthur commanded again when no one moved quickly enough. Once the man was being tended to, he began to speak again. "Now hear me – a vast and terrible army is coming this way. They will show no mercy, spare no one. Those of you who are able should gather your things and begin to move south towards Hadrian's Wall. Those unable shall come with us. You," he addressed Ganis, "serve me now. Get these people ready."

Arthur was quickly making his way back to his men now and Breck dismounted Lugh, pleased with her friend for his decision to evacuate everyone who lived at the estate. The Sarmatians didn't look as thrilled with his change in plans but she knew that Arthur had made the right choice. These people needed to be free of this un-Godly Roman and anyone that remained was going to be slaughtered by the Saxons. Bringing them along would definitely delay their journey but she would rather them have the chance to live then linger behind to await certain death.

"Load of nonsense, this is." Bors grumbled, shaking his head and looked at his commanding officer with open exasperation. "He does this always – Arthur the Just. We've no time for this."

Breck rolled her eyes at him and gifted him with a bored expression. "No, we do not." She agreed huffily. "So why not be silent and put your hands to work?" She suggested, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and then forcing him over to a large group of villagers. They fell silent as she as the brutish Sarmatian approached but she merely offered them a polite smile. "How may we be of assistance?"

Dagonet eventually came to join her and Bors and the three of them managed to speed the process up as they lugged around heavy sacks of supplies and aided the villagers in loading up their carts and wagons. Bors grumbled about the change in their plans the entire time they were helping, unsurprisingly, but Breck merely ignored him and instead focused on not fretting over Tristan's continued disappearance. He _was _going to return soon and he _would _be fine – until she got her hands on him, anyway. If he thought he could leave to track down the Saxons without telling her and _not _receive her wrath, he had another thing coming to him.

Breck and the two Sarmatians ceased their helping about an hour later when the villagers all seemed packed and ready to go. The road was lined with wagons and carts now, with the Roman's carriage positioned at the head of the procession, and as villagers began to accumulate around the road Breck collected Lugh and then met up with Arthur again by the gate of the estate. Her friend seemed distracted, the pensive frown on his face making him seem older then usual at the moment, and she followed his gaze to a small, dark-stoned structure some thirty feet from them.

"What is it?" Breck asked curiously, eyeing the men that were quickly finishing up a stone wall in front of the structure's door.

"I know not." Arthur said slowly. "Whatever it may be, it feels…" He sighed and shook his head, deciding not to finish his sentence as he focused his attention on the people around them instead. "How much longer until we may depart?"

"Not long." Breck confirmed. "And thanks be to God – this place leaves me uneasy."

Arthur nodded his agreement and then straightened up as something behind her caught his attention. Breck glanced behind her to follow his gaze, squinting against the snowflakes that had begun to fall, and then sighed in immense relief when she finally spotted Tristan riding towards them at a hurried pace. He was unhurt at the moment but Breck had the strong temptation to remedy that, wanting him to know very well that she did not appreciate his abrupt departure. Arthur must have noticed the glare she had fixed on his scout because he reached out to pat her shoulder before nodding in the direction of the mysterious building.

"See what you can learn of that." He instructed to dismiss her.

Breck nodded, cast a look at Tristan as he approached, then urged Lugh towards the house-like structure. The two men ceased their work in walling up the door to watch her unsurely, straightening up as she came to a halt a few feet away. She regarded them, eyed the almost completely concealed door, and then turned a look at the Romans that were glaring at her. Without hesitation, Breck drew her sword and then used it to point in the direction of the door. "What be this?" She asked firmly.

"What business is it of yours?" The Roman snapped.

Breck set her jaw firmly and glared at him in a way that informed him she was notintimidated in the slightest. "We risked our lives to save your people and your Lord – provide me an answer or I shall pry it from you myself." She stated.

One of the Romans took a step towards her menacingly, causing Lugh to toss his head and take a few steps backwards, but cut off whatever retort he had when a new sound filled the open air around them. The steady beat of drums reached her ears, sounding all too familiar to her, and she immediately felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. Every nerve in her body was on high alert and she clenched her jaw as she eyed the vast landscape with a renewed sense of alertness – the Saxons were close, much closer then anyone had thought if they were able to hear them. The thought made her close her eyes and take a steadying breath, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her.

"Saxons?" One of the men asked her with wide eyes.

Once she had a better handle on herself, Breck opened her eyes and nodded. "Aye." She answered before glancing back at Arthur. He was watching her expectantly but she shook her had at him, signaling she had not been able to get any information from the men before her. He frowned, drew his sword, then was dismounting his horse and coming over to join them.

Breck was barely aware that the Sarmatians had filled in around her, let alone able to concentrate on the conversation taking place as Arthur came to inspect the strange structure himself. It had been a long time since she had been this close to the Saxon army and Breck tried to calm herself down as each beat of their booming drums succeeded in further awakening the blood-thirsty, revenge seeking warrior within her. She momentarily forgot to be angry with Tristan for leaving, forgot to feel sympathetic for the people they were trying to help, and instead felt her blood beginning to boil. They were _so close_. _Cerdic _was so close. She could practically see him before her very eyes right then and there –

A large crash roused her from her vengeful thoughts and she focused back in on the current situation just as Dagonet tore down the hastily built stone wall.

Breck shook her head to clear her thoughts. The temptation within her to immediately go and hunt down the Saxons was hard to ignore, but she knew she needed to control herself for the time being. The possibility of a fight had been more plausible with their original plan to collect just the Roman family – their circumstances had changed now. The lives of hundreds of people were in their hands and she needed to focus on helping to get them to safety, not on trying to kill every Saxon she could possibly get her hands on.

As soon as the previously sealed up door was forced down, Arthur disappeared inside the dark cavern with Dagonet, Lancelot, and Gawain hot on his heels. Galahad trotted over to her with an unsure look on his face, regarding her with concerned eyes. "Breck?"

Before she could respond, Tristan made his way over and came to a stop next to her. "Galahad – guard the door." He commanded. Once the younger Sarmatian was gone, Tristan spoke again for only her to hear. "Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

"Ask again when we have left this trap of a place." Breck said to him edgily. She sucked in a long breath to calm herself again and then met his gaze, staring at him sternly. "And do not leave me in such a manner again." She instructed firmly, her previous annoyance with him making its way through the fog of hatred swimming in her mind. He had the good conscious to at least seem a bit guilty and nodded at her once in understanding. "What be our plan, then?"

"We leave through the mountains – it is the only escape route the Saxons have not closed us off from completely."

Breck nodded and gazed up at the mountains for a long stretch of silence. "Did you see him?" She asked quietly. Tristan's answer was to nod slowly and she sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Cerdic was almost within her grasp and the knowledge made adrenaline rush through her veins, but she hampered it down firmly. "We need to leave this place." She finally said, changing the subject. "Perhaps I should ride ahead, take these people east while you await Arthur."

"No." Tristan said sharply. "Our path takes us behind Saxons lines – you will _not _go alone."

"What?" She asked in surprise.

Before she could question him further, Lancelot was emerging out of the dark doorway and looking highly disturbed. Arthur was directly behind him with a frail looking girl dangling limply within his arms and a concerned look on his face as he hurried forward. Dagonet was the next one to exit and she frowned deeply when she saw the small, unhealthy looking child that he carried out. "Water! Bring me some water!" Arthur called out.

Horton, Bishop Germanius' secretary, and Marius' wife rushed forward with canteens of water while Dagonet and Arthur began tending to the two strangers. The boy was clearly injured while the girl, undoubtedly a Woad, looked to be on the verge of death. Was this the precarious situation Merlin had referred to the previous night? Was this girl the reason why he had taken up post so close to the estate? Marius rushed forward with a shout when he saw that his prisoners were being helped and Breck could not resist the dark look that she shot at him. The things that were happening under his rule made him no better then Cerdic in her eyes – had she met him on other circumstances, she was sure she would have killed him by now and rid the world of his evil ways

"Stop what you are doing!" Marius cried out.

"What isthis madness?" Arthur demanded to know, standing to his feet.

"They are all Pagans here!" The Roman defended, waving around wildly with his hands. "They refuse to do the task God had set for them! They must die as an example!"

"You mean they refuse to be your serfs!" Arthur accused, looking livid now.

"You are a Roman." Marius reminded him. "You understand. And you are a Christian." Then he looked down on his wife, glaring at her accusingly. "You! You kept her alive!"

Many things happened in the next moment – Marius backhanded his wife, sending her flying to the ground. Then Arthur landed a solid punch on the Roman's face to send him sprawling on his back before he reached for his sword and held it against Marius' throat. Roman officers quickly rushed forward to intervene, but with a scowl and a loud neigh from Lugh, Breck immediately moved between them and Arthur with her already drawn sword in a defensive pose. "One incorrect move and you _will _regret it." She growled at them in warning.

They looked like they might retaliate anyway but Marius spoke up quickly. "No, stop." He commanded "When we get to the Wall, you will be punished for your heresy." He threatened Arthur.

"Perhaps I should kill you know and seal my fate?"

One of the priests that Gawain had dragged out took that moment to speak up. "I was willing to die with them." He said, as though that would lighten the situation. "Yes, to lead them to their rightful place. It is God's wish that these sinners be sacrificed. Only then can their souls be saved."

"God wishes for his followers to choose Him by their own will. Not through torture and death." Breck spoke up roughly with a glare at the priest, no longer able to hold her tongue. He looked taken aback both because of her words and because she had addressed him so forcefully but she ignored him and looked down at Arthur next, who was eyeing the priest distastefully. "Arthur, resolve this and let us be on our way."

"Wall them back up." Arthur commanded without hesitation.

"Arthur – " Tristan started to reason.

"I said, _wall them up_!"

The priests' protested fell on deaf ears as Ganis and the villagers began to force them back into the dark dungeon. While Arthur leaned down to tend to the Woad woman again, Breck finally sheathed her sword and then met Tristan's gaze steadily as he trotted over to join her again. It was obvious he was not overly thrilled that she had jumped into action against the Romans. "You should not interfere – this is not our business." He scolded.

"Outside of you and Arthur, my allegiance does not lie with many things. But God is one of them. And anyone who uses Him as leverage to unleash horrors such as these earns my wrath." She defended. Tristan shook his head and appeared as though he had more to say, but she cut him off before he could. "We have no time to argue this." Breck told him. "Merlin expects us in the Woad camp –" He looked surprised at the mention of Merlin's name and she shook her head. "I will explain later." She promised him. "But we must leave now if we wish to make it by nightfall."

"The Woad camp? By nightfall? Unlikely." Tristan responded sullenly. "We have lingered too long and our numbers are too great."

A screech overhead drew their attention and Tristan whistled when he spotted his hawk amongst the falling snowflakes, extending his arm towards the bird when it was close enough. Breck sighed at Tristan's words and shook her head, wondering how in the world they would be able to stage another meeting place for Arthur and Merlin. This had seemed the prime opportunity and somehow (the fates truly despised her) it had been thwarted. She glanced down at the Woad girl when Arthur scooped her up and then froze in surprise – the disoriented woman was staring at her unblinkingly, even reaching a hand in her direction. There was no way of knowing whether the woman knew what she was doing or not, but her unwavering stare was unnerving and Breck was glad when Arthur turned to carry her over to the carriage, forcing the Woad's gaze away from her.

The villagers all began to form into cluster by the carriages and Breck sighed, following Tristan when he trailed after Arthur and motioned for her to come with him. What were they to do now? How would they get these people to safety, meet with Merlin, and make it back to the Wall before the Saxons were upon them? She was itching to fight the Saxons but not when so many innocent lives were at stake.

Breck turned her eyes up to the sky and frowned, a pleading look in her eyes. _Help us, God. Please. Show us the way._

* * *

**A/N: This story hasn't gone down shit-creek, has it? I know its irritating when people just retype the movie, but I promise that isn't what this story is about. Of course the movie is being followed (mostly) but I plan to put my own spin on it! So just hang in there!**

**Feedback, please! I'll love you forever!**


	33. Chapter 32

**I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

The snow was beginning to come down harder now as the caravan made its way through the mountains and there was a strong sense of uneasiness hanging in the air around them. For the majority of the day, discussion amongst the villagers had been sporadic and brief, the people seemingly too frightened to hold any actual conversation. The obvious alertness residing within Arthur and the strategically placed Sarmatians did nothing to abate their fear and Breck could not help but think their convoy looked like that of a funeral procession as they slowly but surely made their way along the snow-covered roads – everywhere she looked she saw frowns, sadness, and hopelessness. It left her with an empty feeling of her own and she could only hope they were not leading these people to their doom.

Breck looked to the surrounding forest with a cautious eye for what had to be the hundredth time. The rapidly blowing snowflakes were skewing her vision and she squinted hard, trying to ascertain if there was any movement within the dense foliage. Every now and again she could have sworn she saw something, or _someone_, flitting quickly between the trees but could not decide if it was merely a trick of the wintery weather. In the very least, Breck was confident that if someone _was _currently stalking their movements, that someone was not Saxon – their enemy was too brash to be capable of such stealth.

Another quick flash between the trees made her sit up straighter. What followed them? Was it a Woad? Was it some other group of peoples that Breck had not previously been aware of? Not for the first time, Breck focused her suspicions on the carriage in front of her. Inside it was Dagonet, a few ill villagers, and then the injured boy that her friend had been tending to. But it was the Woad also riding in the carriage that continued to catch her attention and she was unsurprised when she met the woman's gaze yet again. The Woad had become awake and alert after Arthur briefly went into the carriage some hours previous and Breck had been able to feel the woman's eyes on her more often then not over the span of their journey.

Why did the woman keep studying her in such a way?

"What I would not give to be at Hadrian's Wall in this moment." Galahad mused next to her with a deep frown, drawing her attention.

"I believed you hated the Wall." Breck responded, trying to ignore the stare she could feel on her.

"Yes, well, when the choice lies between my post or attempting to outrun a monstrous army, the Wall is the lesser of the two evils." He reasoned. Breck nodded her understanding and glanced back at the Woad woman. She had cocked her head to the side now and stared at Breck unwaveringly and the Celt was not the only one to notice this. "That Woad seems very intrigued by you." Galahad said for only her to hear, quirking an eyebrow in the direction of the peculiar Woad. "She has barely removed her stare from you this entire trip."

"I am aware."

When the woman finally tore her eyes away from Breck to quickly glance in the direction of the trees, Breck followed her searching gaze. It took a moment to focus amongst the white flurries that were coming down around them, but the redhead was finally able to just barely spot a blue-tinted figure before they disappeared, yet again, into the dense trees. She was aware that Merlin had been staking out the estate, so therefore was not completely taken aback over the confirmed presence of the 'rebels'. The fact that she had not taken action against the people tailing them seemed to only garner her more interest from the Woad woman and Breck finally decided to put an end to the silent questioning – the woman clearly was interested in Breck and she was going to find out why.

"Where do you go?" Galahad asked curiously when she urged Lugh forward.

Breck ignored him and came to trot alongside the carriage, watching as the Woad straightened up and eyed her with a guarded expression. Up close, the woman looked as skinny and frail as she had upon first seeing her but now appeared in much better condition after she had received medical attention, sustenance, and rest. The two women sized one another up before Breck finally spoke to break the silence. "It seems there are questions in regards to myself that weigh heavily on your mind." Breck said bluntly.

A tiny smirk appeared on the corner of the Woad's mouth. "And it seems you do not waste time with idle chatter."

"Only when there is time to be wasted – which, currently, there is not." Breck reminded her as a way to tell her to get on with the conversation.

"You are no Roman." The Woad mused pensively.

"No."

"And no Sarmatian."

"No." Breck answered again, beginning to feel impatient with the woman.

The woman tilted her head. "So who are you?"

"I am a friend to Arthur and to the Sarmatians." She answered simply.

The Woad did not look completely convinced of her just yet. "I see. And what of my people? What be your connection to them?" She asked knowingly. Breck's confused frown was immediate – how could this woman have suspicions of her connection to the Woads already when she had barely been functioning until just a mere few hours previous? Upon noticing her inner struggle, the Woad spoke up again. "You know you are tracked, yet you sound no alarm." She said, glancing towards the forest for a brief second. "And I may have been knocking upon death's door, but my ears heard _my_ father's name on _your_ lips."

"Your father?" Breck asked, now completely lost with this conversation.

"Merlin."

Everything made sense very quickly with the two syllables that escaped the woman's lips – this woman was Merlin's daughter. No wonder the man had been stationed so close to the estate and no wonder the Woads tracked them now. Breck glanced out to the trees, half expecting Merlin to come waltzing out to greet them, before casting a quick glance up to the sky in bemusement. It almost seemed perfect the way things had ended up playing out, so much so that it almost seemed planned. What were the odds that they would go to a wayward Roman estate and rescue the daughter of the very man she attempted to convince Arthur to ally with? She had previously been fretting over how to get Arthur and Merlin to hold council but the problem had worked itself out, because surely Merlin was en route if they were being tracked.

"Of course you are the daughter of Merlin." Breck mused, half in amusement and half in disbelief over the turn of events.

"You speak as though you are friends." The Woad accused, looking at her almost suspiciously.

"Not friends – allies." Breck corrected.

"My father does not side with those not of this land, especially not those who befriend a man that murders our people." The woman reminded her with a hint of disbelief in her voice. "Why should you be treated any differently?"

"Perhaps because your father finally realizes whom the true threat lies with." Breck shot at her. "Strange though it may be, Merlin has placed his trust in me and, in turn, with Arthur as well. Arthur is no mindless monster and even Merlin has come to understand this."

The Woad fell silent, her large eyes staring unblinkingly at her again before she slowly turned her head to eye Arthur. The man was riding alongside Lancelot a few yards behind them and had his eyes turned out towards the forest, inspecting the trees for any signs of intruders as he and his comrade guarded the Roman's carriage. Breck could not tell what the look in the Woad's eyes meant, but the way she watched Arthur unsettled her – was she intrigued by Arthur or did she wish him harm? Breck couldn't tell. The woman finally faced Breck again and quirked an eyebrow at her in an almost challenging manner. "And what motivates you to partake in this war if you be not of this land? What importance is it to you?"

Breck's lips pressed into a thin line and she gave the woman a stern look. She may have sided with the Woads, but the people had no knowledge of her lineage nor of her connection to Cerdic – she wasn't about to start revealing such information to this stranger, especially not when the woman was still so suspicious of her. "That is a personal matter. Your father has never pried, I ask you for the same respect."

The two women fell silent again and Breck was not sure if she had offended the Woad or not, but when the strange woman became distracted by something behind Breck the redhead turned to inspect whatever had caught the woman's interest. All along the road were the mangled, dead bodies of Roman soldiers and Breck found herself a bit more on alert. The Saxons had obviously been through here at some point, but the freezing temperatures made it hard to tell if it had been recent or not. The Celt-Saxon scrutinized their surroundings suspiciously but decided if any enemy were nearby, then the Woads that trailed them would have alerted someone by now.

The caravan had come to a halt now, and Breck turned her attention forward when she spotted Tristan making his way back from the head of the convoy. If he was troubled by the fact that the Saxons had used these roads, he masked it well as he came to a halt next to her. "Why have we stopped?" Breck asked him, all too aware that the Woad woman was watching them intently.

"I need to ride ahead – scout the roads for Saxons." He informed her, looking unfazed as he eyed the dead Romans before them.

Breck nodded in understanding. "I am coming with you." She told him firmly.

"No, you are not."

"Aye, I am." She countered stubbornly. "Or would you rather I blindly chase after you once you have taken your leave?"

Tristan shot her a look that only she could decipher, one that told her how annoying she was being, but did not get a chance to retort because Arthur and the rest of the knights had ridden up to see why the caravan had come to a halt. As soon as Tristan had updated Arthur about his wish to scout the area, Arthur agreed that the convoy would make camp for the night within the forest that sat just around the bend in the road. Then they would await for Tristan's return and any news he may carry before continuing on. As soon as Tristan's hawk was in the air, Arthur took the lead of the convoy and the rest of the Sarmatians resumed their original posts. Breck shot one last look at the Woad woman before trailing behind Tristan, earning herself a displeased quirk of his brow.

"And where do _you_ go?" Lancelot asked as they rode past him.

"I ride with Tristan." She said.

"Protecting your man, are you?" He asked with a smirk.

Breck ignored his jibe and pulled on Lugh's reigns to halt his movement for a brief moment. The Woad had finally pried her eyes off of Breck so that she could instead watch Arthur with a steady gaze, but the look on her face was hard to decipher. The redhead pursed her lips before leaning in closer to Lancelot. "Keep a close eye on the Woad while I am gone – the way she regards Arthur unsettles me." She said for only him to hear.

Lancelot raised an eyebrow and peered at the Woad before giving Breck one firm nod. With his agreement, Breck dug her heels into Lugh's flanks and steered him forward so that she could catch up with Tristan. Arthur tried to stop her to question her but she only offered him a wave in parting, her sights set on where Tristan lingered, clearly waiting for her despite his annoyance with her stubbornness. Once she was by his side again, he directed Azia forward and then they were off, leaving the convoy behind them without another glance.

* * *

The pair of them first continued going forward on the road the convoy travelled, checking for any signs of lingering Saxons while also making sure of any possible escape routes. To their shared uneasiness, all of the roads that they scoured had ended in the same place – a large, iced-over lake that the convoy would eventually end up having to cross in order to continue on south back to the Wall. She and Tristan had both crossed over it a few times by horseback before deciding it should be sturdy enough to support the convoy for the short trek across. Then, as the sun began to go down, they doubled back the way that they had come and used the tracks from the convoy to cross back through the mountains in order to ascertain if the Saxons had indeed begun to follow them. If they were, they needed to find out how much time separated them from the escaping convoy.

The roads were much more daunting now that night had settled in and Breck squinted her eyes both to force her eyes to adjust to the new lighting and to fight against the incoming snowflakes. It was dark and it was silent, deathly so, and she couldn't help but feel highly vulnerable out on the open trail with such poor visibility. "Tristan." She hissed to catch his attention as they trotted along. "Can we not conceal ourselves within the trees?"

The Sarmatian scrutinized the forest around them for a moment before pointing to the left. She saw nothing at first, but then spotted the hint of a trail that was almost completely grown over with trees and bushes. Breck nodded her agreement over the new path and then followed Tristan when he made his way over, feeling much more at ease once they had pushed through the tangled bushes. Now they were on the concealed path and were hidden from the main trail by the thick brush and dense foliage, completely blocked from view.

"_This_ is what your scouting consists of?" She asked once they were making their way along the path, making sure to keep her voice down so as not to be heard. The main road never left their sight as they travelled parallel to it, keeping the winding path to their right side. "Travelling alone to watch for the enemy while the others rest?"

"I prefer it this way." Tristan answered in a hushed voice. "Alone I can escape with ease and not worry over the life of another – though that is not the case tonight." He added, shooting her a pointed look.

Breck gazed at him challengingly in return. "If you truly believed I would allow you to scout for Saxons alone – _again_ – you are far less intelligent then I thought you to be." Tristan only offered her an indifferent look in response and she scoffed, shaking her head in disapproval. "Be as stubborn as you wish, but when you survive this mission unscathed I expect to hear only gratitude on your part." She told him haughtily.

There was a small smirk on his lips but they fell silent as they continued through the overgrown trail, having to push branches of trees and bushes out of the way so they could get by easier. Breck was glad that they hadn't spotted any sign of the Saxons just yet – even the loud, obnoxious barbarians would have been able to hear their trek through the forest over their own loud racket. Tristan took the lead whenever the path became too narrow for them to travel on side by side and she stayed close behind him, keeping a careful eye open. The fact that Tristan embarked on missions like these alone irked her, but she couldn't justify holding it against him when she had been doing the exact same thing for nearly four years. Actually, in the end, they might just prove to make a good team in situations like this.

After over a half hour of steadily making their way along the deserted trail, a far off screech of a familiar sounding hawk could be just barely heard over the sound of the howling wind around them. Tristan whistled for his pet when he heard it and came to a halt, patiently waiting for his bird to locate him. Breck had no idea how the bird could actually find him amongst the thick forest that had engulfed them, but within a matter of minutes the bird was swooping down and perching on Tristan's arm.

"Devil of a bird, but smart none the less…" Breck mused aloud.

"She is only jealous." Tristan responded.

"_She_? I understand now." She huffed.

"What did you find?" Tristan asked, now turning his attention back to the bird.

In the blink of an eye, the bird was in the air again and flying away from them in the direction that their horses were pointed. Tristan wordlessly motioned for Breck to follow him and then set off in a face-paced trot, ducking low onto his horse so as not to draw any extra attention to himself. Breck followed his suit and trailed behind him with her eyes turned constantly to the road, following the bird's lead. Between the trees and the falling snow Breck quickly lost sight of the hawk but, thankfully, Tristan had enough experience working with it that he was able to keep an eye on it. He tracked the hawk until she veered to the right, raised high above the trees, and then disappeared amongst the wintery weather. Then he was leading Azia towards the edge of the trail. Breck pulled Lugh to a stop behind Tristan and frowned when he dismounted Azia, taking the mare's reigns and tying her firmly to one of the trees. Then he grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows, obviously about to proceed on foot.

"Are you insane?" She hissed at him, still sitting atop of Lugh. "We cannot leave them here."

Tristan wordlessly marched over, grasped her firmly around the waist, and then dragged her off of Lugh before taking the horse's reigns himself and tying him up next to Azia. Breck, not liking the fact that she'd just been manhandled, placed her hands on her hips and glared at him until he turned to face her again. "If you track with me, then you do as I say." Was the excuse he came up with before he motioned for her to follow him and began creeping through the trees in the direction of the road.

With one last look over her shoulder at the horses, Breck began to follow him until they were just at the edge of the trees and almost onto the open road. Tristan didn't seem fazed by their vulnerability in the slightest and gazed out for a long moment before continuing to make his way through the thick forest. Every twig that snapped under their feet sounded magnified by a thousand times and she cringed with each step, keeping close to his back as they followed the familiar road but never took a step outside of the concealing confines of the forest. A good while later, just as she was beginning to think they'd gone in the wrong direction, was when the eerie flickering of firelight could be spotted faintly glowing on the mountainside opposite of them. The sounds of chatter began resonating through the trees and made her heart pound in her chest at once, she and Tristan sharing a look before moving forward with renewed determination.

As soon as they made it around one last bend in the curved path, they were presented with the sight of hundreds of Saxons loitering about on the road. Most were sleeping, some were eating or drinking, and a select few were sparring with each other while growling out insulting things that they wished to do to their enemies. The sight of them this close after so long made her blood pound in her ears, but she resisted the urge to draw her sword and instead placed a hand on Tristan's shoulder when he went to move forward. At his questioning glance, Breck merely shook her head and went to move past him.

"What are you doing?" He hissed sharply, his hand closing around her arm in a vice-like grip despite the layer of armor on her.

"Do _you _speak Saxon?" She asked snippily. "Fear not – I plan nothing brash." She said before managing to pry his hand off of her arm so she could creep forward again.

Breck carefully maneuvered through the twigs and leaves that littered the ground of the forest as she made her way closer to the enemy. Not that it would have really mattered anyway – the men on the road mixed with the howl of the wind easily drowned out the majority of the sounds around her now. Still, the redhead proceeded with caution until she could crouch down behind a tree, the enemy separated from her by only twenty or so feet.

"– kill that bloody Roman whenever he is within my grasp!" One Saxon growled before lashing out at his sparring partner, the two of them doing their best to defeat the other.

"You kill the Roman, I shall kill the blood traitor." His partner responded with a fierce determination, causing her eyebrows to inch up in surprise. Did they speak of her? "You heard that monk – the she-devil travels with them." Yes, they were definitely speaking of her. "I wish to chop off her head so it may be placed with that of the betrayer's!"

His mention of her father's ill demise immediately made her see red but she took a calming breath, her jaw clenched as she reminded herself that attacking _now _would be disastrous.

"My father wants her _alive_." A new voice commanded irritably, drawing her attention away from her inner pep-talk and towards the newcomer that was making his way to the men. Her eyes widened in recognition before she immediately scowled. "But know I shall greatly reward you if she be presented to _me _instead." He added, a malicious grin making its way onto his face.

_Cynric_. Even if he hadn't referred to Cerdic as his father she would have been able to recognize him – same bald head, same malicious look in his cold eyes, same air of complete self-confidence and unwavering black soul. The only changes in him now were the fact that his beard had grown longer and he had visibly ages in the nearly fifteen years since she had last seen him. Immediately, as though the wound had freshly been inflicted, Breck felt a throb under her right collar bone and pressed a hand to the armor that concealed her long-healed scar. The last time she had seen Cynric had been on that unmerciful road and he had tried to kill her. Now he was standing there with yet another plan to try and end her life.

"Come, we continue our hunt!" Cynric instructed, clapping his hands together loudly.

Breck forced the memories of the ambush out of her mind and focused on the present. A loud grumble had sounded through some of the nearby men while a few simply ignored the command. Most of them continued sleeping. "We have been marching for nearly three days! We need rest!" A man shouted out.

"Do you wish for them to escape?" Another Saxon asked. He was one of the few that had jumped up to resume their journey.

"I can promise they do exactly as we do now." Interjected another man in a bored tone, his feet propped up leisurely as he tried to catch some sleep. "Besides, they've hardly any soldiers to defend them. They shall present no challenge – let us rest."

"If we fail –" Cynric began to say, showing some vulnerability.

"We shall not." The same man answered.

Cynric stood and debated it for a long while before he finally strode over to one of the fires. "We march in the morning. Kill the Roman, kill the knights, kill whoever – just leave the Roman family and that filth of a whore's womb alive." He commanded before plopping down in front of the fire to a quick round of cheering from the men. Then, one by one, they all began to settle in for the night, sleep quickly beginning to claim the barbaric men.

Breck turned around and leaned against the tree for a moment, letting Cynric's words sink in. It was glaringly obvious that Cerdic had received the message she'd left for him. And, as she had planned, it had gotten them extremely riled up. It was plain to see that the feud between her family and the Saxons was nowhere near being finished in either party's opinion. She had wanted a fight; she was going to get a fight. For a moment she felt the greatest rush of excitement that she had ever felt –

- and then promptly felt like she was going to throw up.

Breck pressed a hand to her mouth and took a few steadying breaths, trying to pull herself together before Tristan became too worried. _Steady, you imbecile._ She chastised herself. _This is the moment you have been waiting to seize. _Breck rubbed a hand over her face and then through her hair before looking for Tristan amongst the trees. He unsurprisingly had his bow armed and aimed in the direction of the Saxons, waiting to release his arrow should she be spotted and need cover fire. Breck felt herself relax immediately as he looked to her in concern and began to make her way to him again, a warm, protected feeling stopping her anxieties dead in their tracks. Fighting Cerdic scared her, she would admit that now, but at least she would have Tristan right there by her side.

"They settle for the night." She informed him in a whisper as soon as she was close enough. "Come, let us go."

She went to move past him but Tristan immediately caught her around the waist, pulling her to a stop in front of him. "Wait – are you well?" He asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Aye." Breck answered slowly. Tristan didn't look convinced in the slightest. "Not here – let us talk back at camp." He finally nodded and then motioned for her to lead the way, slinging his bow back over his shoulder before following after her, a watchful eye on the Saxons until they were out of sight.

By the time they reached their horses, followed the road back around to the forest the convoy was in, and then settled in at the very edge of the forest, the moon was high in the air. For the first time on this journey, Tristan was looking fairly tired – he had travelled much farther then anyone else that day and it had obviously taken a bit of a toll on him. But even as he blinked against his exhaustion, he still told her they would camp out at the entrance to the forest to keep watch before instructing her to tie Lugh up for the night.

"Now, what was said?" Tristan demanded of her when she returned from tying up Lugh.

"In summary – they attack tomorrow, they know I am here, and their instructions are to leave only the Roman family and me alive." She explained quickly. "I presume I have earned myself a fight against Cerdic." Breck added. Tristan's brows furrowed and most of the sleepiness drained out of his eyes at her words. Then he shook his head with a scowl and strode over to Azia, making like he was going to untie her reigns and depart. Breck moved to intervene quickly and placed her hands on his, forcing him to stop. "Tristan, no – you are as dead on your feet as everyone in that caravan." She tried to reason with him. "If we are exhausted then we shall stand no chance in outrunning the enemy." He stared at her for a moment and then released Azia's reigns with a heavy sigh. "We will wake early in the morn and get everyone moving again, aye?" Breck asked.

Tristan nodded once, pulled her close to press a kiss to her forehead, and then strode over to lean against one of the trees. It was noticeable that he was upset so she decided not to tell him about how Cynric, the man they were about fight, was involved with the ambush that had killed her mother. Instead, she walked up behind him and pressed a kiss onto his shoulder, wishing her armor wasn't getting in the way of a proper hug. She felt one of his hands grab hers and she took the opportunity to turn him around to face her so she could start pushing him onto the ground.

"_I _shall take first watch." Breck insisted. "You deserve rest." She added. Tristan opened his mouth but she shook her head, waving her hand in front of his face so he would stop protesting. "Cease your talking and sleep, Tristan." Breck instructed firmly.

He smirked, shook his head, and finally settled at the base of the tree. Breck started to walk away but he caught her before she could get too far and pulled her down onto the ground next to him. Breck huffed at him in annoyance, wondering when he had turned into such a handsy barbarian, but then could not help the warmth within her when he lay on his back and used her legs for his pillow. "Wake me in a few hours." He said before his eyes were closing.

Breck shook her head and fought back a love-struck smile. There was serious business to attend to right now – at least two hundred men wanted her head on a silver platter and there was not much time or space that separated her from them. She did not need to think about how handsome Tristan looked, how tired she herself was, nor how badly she wished to curl up in his arms right then to catch a good nap. No, she needed to focus and stay alert. She was _not _tired, she was _not _tired…

_CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRACK. _

"That's her!"

Breck went from being sound asleep to wide awake in a nanosecond, momentarily blinded by the morning light. When had she fallen asleep? One moment she had been watching the road and the next she was waking up to yelling. With a jolt, she realized Tristan was no longer on her lap and jumped to her feet, her eyes darting around in confusion as she brandished her sword in one hand and her club in the other. The Sarmatian in question, she realized, was on one bent knee and had already sent an arrow into one of the Saxons.

_Saxons!_

Breck finally recovered from her stupor in time to block the oncoming axe of an attacker with her new club. There was a moment where they stared at each other and then Breck kneed him in the stomach, efficiently pushing him away from her. While he was doubled over, one of the other Saxons charged in an attempt to take advantage of her distraction. Instead she turned to him, blocking the strikes of his sword with her own blade before delivering a hard, unexpected blow to his head with her club. The Saxon fell dead at her feet and she admired her new weapon for a split second before using it to deliver a backhanded strike against her first attackers face when he chose to attack again. With the two Saxons down, one last man came running for her but Tristan stopped him dead in his tracks with an arrow to his temple.

The fight was over before it began and Breck and Tristan both eyed the four dead Saxons, most likely a scouting party, before looking at each other. He was breathing as heavy as she was and she let out a heave of air as he got to his feet and made his way towards her.

"What an incredibly rude awakening." She muttered, eyeing her club approvingly before sliding it back into its holster. Tristan didn't say anything in response and she turned to face him as he approached, expecting he was going to check her for injuries. "I am _fi –_"

His hands were on either side of her neck and his lips were on hers in an instant. Maybe he was in shock because they'd just fought their way out of a surprise attack, but suddenly he was kissing her like he was a starved man being presented with a feast. Breck couldn't help the moan that welled up in her throat, especially when her back met a tree hard, and she felt him press as close as their armor would permit. Breck dropped her sword so she could wrap her arms around him safely, returning his kiss eagerly. He pulled away a moment later and it was impossible to overlook the undiluted desire in his eyes.

"What…" She cleared her throat. "What was that for?" Breck asked, trying to keep her voice from shaking. Did he have to look at her like that right now?

He didn't reply, merely offered a smirk that could have meant a number of things just then and gave her a last lingering kiss. Then he was pulling away from her completely. "Come, we need to warn the others." He said, snatching up one of the Saxons' crossbows on his way to Azia.

* * *

The camp was awake and mobile within a matter of a half hour then back on the main road so they could continue on towards the Wall. Breck tried incredibly hard to think of anything _but _the searing kiss she had shared with Tristan and was actually a bit relieved when Arthur sent him forward to check the roads again. Some of the others had noticed her distraction but she tried to mask it as well as she could, instead focusing on the Saxons that surely had to be catching up by now. She took her place next to Arthur as they travelled along and frowned when she saw the distant look in his eyes.

"Arthur?" She asked.

He shook himself out of his own thoughts and looked at her in surprise, previously unaware she had ridden up next to him. "Forgive me, I was a million miles away." He said slowly, a troubled look on his face.

"Are you well?"

He sighed, looking like he wanted to say something, and then merely nodded his head at her in confirmation. She didn't believe him for a moment but he changed the subject before she could pry further. "Are _you_ well?" Arthur finally asked, squinting over at her as the sun beat down from overhead.

"Aye." She answered quickly.

"Did anything happen yester night?"

Breck tried not to heave at Arthur's prying. "We found the Saxon camp and some of their words regarding my family were…less _cordial _then one would wish." Breck used as her excuse. It wasn't a lie to any extent, but it would suffice – she couldn't very well tell her friend she was distracted because his scout had nearly had his wicked way with her.

That did the trick because Arthur immediately came out of his slump and went into protector-mode, saying encouraging words and phrases to pull her out of her 'distress'. He continued on with this until Gawain came riding up to inform them that he believed he might have spotted the Saxons closing in on them. Though he wasn't sure, this had quickly thrown both her and Arthur back into reality – Arthur had immediately begun to head further down the road to search for any sign of Tristan while she went up and down the caravan to urge them ahead faster, Gawain and the knights helping her spread the word.

Soon enough, they finally reached the frozen lake that she and Tristan had found the previous night. Breck could already see the men dismounting their horses by the time she cleared the road and she watched them begin to carefully make their way across. "Go on. Go forth." She said, turning her attention back to the villagers trailing behind her and making sure everyone was passing by. "We cross the ice – hurry, no one linger behind."

"You, Breck!" Horton said as he came riding over. "Arthur says for everyone to be on foot and spreading out." He said upon arriving.

Breck nodded and turned her focus to the villagers. "You heard him – get a move on." She said, waving people down from the carriage.

As the villagers began to fan out around her on foot, Breck dismounted Lugh and started to lead him across by the reigns. Already the cracking of ice could be heard resonating off the walls of the mountains and she frowned, glaring up at the sun accusingly. The ice had seemed sturdy enough last night but that had been before the sun was able to begin melting it away – and when it had only been her and Tristan. Arthur eventually held a hand up to stop their progression about halfway across the ice, unsure if they should continue on and seemed about ready to call off their forward progress until a familiar sound reached their ears.

The pounding of their drums made a silence fall over everyone. Many looked at each other in fright, some covered their ears as though that may make it go away, and everyone else looked to Arthur to see what their next move would be. Even from where she stood she could see the tension in his shoulders and when he finally turned around to face his men, the look on his face could only mean one thing – he was debating staying to fight.

As each knight began to agree to stay and fight, Breck immediately began to work at undoing the straps that held her quiver of arrows to Lugh's saddle. He turned to look at her, seemingly with curiosity, and she patted his neck before snatching up the quiver of arrow and her bow. "Go with Jols." She whispered to him in Gaelic. "The score must be settled."

Jols had scurried off with Ganis to begin preparing the knights' weapons, so Breck handed Lugh's reigns over to one of the helping villagers and then headed towards the knights, briefly meeting the Woad woman's eyes as she went past her. When Arthur spotted her weaving through the crowd of people, he came to a halt and watched her approach, a knowing look on his face. "I cannot convince you to lead the people south?" He asked, not looking like he really believed she would agree. The shake of her head only confirmed what he was thinking and he patted her on the shoulder. "Ganis, I need you to lead the people…" He said, moving past her to address the villager.

The men inclined their heads toward her as she dropped her quiver of arrows on the ground between Tristan and Lancelot and she offered up a small smile before beginning to stretch out the string of her bow. She could feel Tristan's eyes on her and she lowered her bow, turning her gaze on him. He reached a hand up, brushed some of her hair away from her face, and then leaned in to kiss her temple. In return, she grabbed a fistful of the cloak hanging over his chest and pulled him back in to give him a quick, but proper, kiss, not really caring if the others saw or not. She didn't get too carried away though, still reeling from the kiss he'd given her before reconvening with the others.

"Enough with that." Lancelot grumbled when they separated. "You just try to make me jealous."

Breck looked over at him with a smirk, fully intending to say something smart in return, but was too surprised to when she spotted the Woad woman arming herself and taking the spot next to him. Despite her earlier suspicions of the woman, Breck nodded at her in approval. The woman noticed and then offered a nod of her own, clearly appraising her in the same manner.

"If we have any luck, the ice will give way and claim them." Arthur said as he strode over to join them. The last of the caravan beginning to clear the frozen over lake now and they all stood facing the direction that taunted them with sound of Saxon drums. Their volume was steadily getting louder with each moment and concentration fell over the group as they began to fidget in anticipation, waiting for the moment that the Saxons would come pouring around the corner.

This was it, their first taste of the Saxon wrath. Had it really only been yesterday that they had been at the Roman estate? It had really only been a few hours since that kiss with Tristan? How quickly their plans had been force to change – just as they always did when it came to this particular enemy.

What could have been second or hours (Breck's mind was racing too much to be certain) passed by until they caught the first glimpses of the army that hunted them. By this point, Arthur and his men were all armed and read to fight. Breck took a calming breath, notched an arrow, and took her defensive stance, briefly turning her eyes up to the sky in order to say a quick prayer. _Protect us, God. Be with us in this fight._ When her eyes turned back down, they locked onto a familiar face almost immediately. Every other thought from her mind but the one to see Cynric lying dead on the ice clear out quickly and she focused in on his bald head, another scowl making its way onto her face.

"They are led by Cynric." She said as the Saxons formed their ranks on the other side of the ice. "He is Cerdic's son – and he is _mine_."

* * *

**A/N: I'm laughing. Very evilly. Just so you know…**

…**and also continuing writing. Also just so you know…**


	34. Chapter 33

**I own nothing related to King Arthur**

**Warning: There are some adult themes in this chapter, but nothing that compromises the rating of the story. Just letting you know.**

* * *

Breck fought hard against the emotions welling up within her and set her eyes in a hard stare, keeping them focused unblinkingly on the path before them. Her left shoulder throbbed in time with her heartbeat and she could feel blood beginning to seep out of her hastily bandaged injury, but she was too distressed to care about it. The others around her were deathly quiet, too. A heavy sense of dread had settled in around them as they travelled along with the convoy again, mercilessly reminding them of their loss as they made their way back to Hadrian's Wall. Breck breathed a long heave and closed her eyes for a moment. The sounds from their battle was so fresh in her memory that she felt as though she could still hear it, even now as they neared the Wall again and left Cynric and his Saxons to the mercy of the mountains.

When she opened her eyes again, they turned to the horse in front of her and dropped down to gaze at the large, lifeless hand that dangled from beneath a dark cloak.

Dagonet was dead.

She gulped, fighting down the lump in her throat, and lifted her eyes from the sight again. The battle had seemed to be swinging in their favor in the beginning – their archery skills far surpassed that of the Saxons and they had started off strong, picking off the enemy left and right whenever they had begun to advance. But could something have been done differently? Could one small change have saved Dagonet's life? Breck began to mull over the battle again, her brows furrowed as she mused over every detail of the fight for what had to be the hundredth time that afternoon.

"_Ready." Arthur commanded slowly, lifting his bow to aim an arrow into the sky. _

_Breck lifted her bow into the air simultaneously with the rest of the line. Her palms felt a bit sweaty as she waited to release her first arrow, her weapon pointed in the direction of Cynric. The army continued marching closer and the same cracking sounds of the thinning ice began to fill the air again, just as they had when they themselves had crossed it. The Saxons looked down at their feet unsurely, but their trepidation did not slow their pace much. Cynric motioned them forward faster and as he neared, Breck could now easily see that his eyes were locked on her. The intent behind his gaze was hard to miss – she could practically feel the hatred rolling off of him._

"_Aim for the wings of their ranks – make them cluster." Arthur instructed._

_Breck pursed her lips, wanting very much to keep her arrow pointed to the center and right at Cynric, but finally turned her weapon to aim for the left flank with the rest of the line. Arthur only hesitated for a few more moments before she heard the sharp twang of his arrow being released. In the blink of an eye, all of their arrows were soaring through the air and Breck watched in satisfaction as her arrow met its target. The cluster of Saxons to the very left of the army had all fallen underneath their showering of arrows while the rest scurried away from them quickly. _

"_Reload." Arthur instructed. This time they aimed for the right flank, picking off more Saxons and sending them scampering back in the direction they had just come from. _

_Back and forth they went, first aiming for the left flank then for the right. The Saxons were beginning to become chaotic in their attempts to avoid their showering of arrows and it looked as though Cynric were about to lose his handle on his men. The groaning ice beneath their feet mixed with the threat of their arrows was making some begin to contemplate escape, and it was nearly laughable to watch Cynric dash back and forth along the front of the line with an enraged look on his face as he yelled at his men. "Hold the ranks!" She heard him shout as she loaded another arrow. "I'll kill you myself!" The arrow she had just released landed in the heart of the man he had just threatened and Cynric turned a hateful glare on her, moving forward with renewed vigor. _

They had thought, or at least _hoped_, that the ice would break out from underneath them. And for a moment they truly thought it might. The loud cracking of the breaking ice had sounded so loudly that she had expected the enemy would go tumbling into the icy abyss at any moment. Now, she thought maybe they shouldn't have laid so much of their trust in the treacherous landscape. Perhaps they should have done something to tamper with the ice beforehand; maybe they should never have hesitated to begin picking off every Saxon they saw in the first place.

Either way, it had seemed they had been in serious trouble until Dagonet had taken it upon himself to solve the problem at hand.

_A loud cry made Breck look sharply to her left and, with a sinking feeling, watch as Dagonet went running out to the middle of his ice. A large axe swung from his hand and when he came to a halt to swing it high over his head, his intention was clear – he was going to make the ice break if he had to do it himself. _

"_Cover him!" Arthur's command resounded in the air. _

_Breck dropped her weapons carelessly and ran back to her abandoned bow, not waiting to stand to her full height before she was releasing an arrow at the first Saxon she saw. As Dagonet began to hack away at the ice with hard, powerful strikes, Breck and the rest of her comrades fired arrow after arrow, trying to keep the Saxon archers from being able to get a clean shot at him. "Kill him!" She heard Cynric shout and she loaded another arrow, sending it whizzing towards his forehead. He ducked out of the way at the last moment and his wide eyes turned on her before narrowing into a death glare. _

_A large resounding crack sounded throughout the air and Dagonet managed to begin breaking through the ice. Shouts could be heard from the Saxon line as the ground began to fall apart beneath their feet and it seemed that they were momentarily too distracted to take any more shots at Dagonet. Wave after wave of their arrows took down the Saxons and not a single enemy arrow had found its target yet. Breck loaded another arrow and a rush of triumph shot through her when it hit made contact with the enemy – they were going to win. The ice was going to consume the bastards and they would be able to walk away unscathed. _

"_Kill him!" Cynric shouted again. _

_And just as Dagonet raised his arms high above his head to strike again, Breck watched as an arrow embedded itself into his chest. Her heart nearly stopped as the large man fell to the ice and she was on her feet in the blink of an eye, already trying to move forward to help him without a second thought about it. She didn't get very far – Tristan locked a hand around her arm and yanked her back to his side roughly, pinning her into place with a firm glare before turned to continue firing arrows. _

"_Keep firing." He said firmly. _

Breck could remember how shaky she had been after seeing Dagonet fall, how terrified she was for the friend she had grown to cherish, and felt the same sense of dread fill her bones again. There had been a brief moment when she thought Dagonet might be alright – he had pulled himself to his knees and delivered one final blow, successfully making the ice begin to break all around them. But he had gone tumbling into the icy water seconds after and had only been rescued from its icy grasp when Arthur nearly went sliding in himself to save him.

She should have killed Cynric when she had the chance. Lack of leadership would have sent the remaining Saxons into a frenzy and there would have been far too much mayhem within their ranks to successfully attack. If Cynric had been dealt with like she had originally planned, Dagonet may still be alive right now. But instead, his lifeless body dangled from his horse and their afternoon would consist of putting him in his final resting place rather then celebrating the men's freedom.

_Bors had hurried over to help Arthur with Dagonet now, using his shield to protect his commanding officer as they dragged the large healer to safety. _

_The ice that had been splintering and cracking in the direction of the Saxons had now begun to come for them instead. Lancelot was the first to work through his surprise and began yelling for them to pull back as the ground started trembling beneath them. Breck started to move backwards to avoid going tumbling into the water, but then changed her mind when she saw that Arthur and Bros had gone tumbling to the ice. Without hesitation she went running out to help them, just barely managing to avoid Tristan when he reached for her again, and began hoisting Arthur up as soon as she was close enough. _

"_His feet!" Bors cried to her once they were both standing again._

_Breck nodded, fired a quick arrow into the crowd of Saxons, and then bent over to hoist up Dagonet's feet. The ice beneath her started to give way and they stepped forward just as it cracked beneath her retreating foot, making her cast a wary look behind her. They clumsily began to make their way to the others under the protection of their cover fire and Breck glanced behind her at the enemy lines, urging Arthur and Bors forward faster when she saw the line of enemy arches that had taken position behind them. It wasn't long before she could hear arrows whizzing past her ears, _

"_Help us!" Bors hollered to his comrades when they began to struggle again. _

_Tristan was already making his way to them, firing arrows one after the other as he moved, and then brushed Breck away to take her place. "Arrows!" Breck called to the line as the men continued forward. _

_The Woad woman kicked a quiver of arrows to her and Breck scooped them up as they slid towards her, dropping to her knee and quickly loading one as she faced the enemy again. A glance behind her told her that the men hadn't made it to safety yet so she turned her attention forward again and provided a few more covering shots. Her eyes narrowed when she aimed her next arrow right at Cynric and an almost sickening satisfaction filled her when it planted itself in his right shoulder. His holler of pain could be heard over the chaotic noises of the battle and he double over for a moment._

"_Breck! Look out!" Galahad called to her from the line. _

_That was when she noticed the Saxon archer that had her in his sights. Breck lunged to the side to try to avoid the arrow, but it found its way into her left shoulder none-the-less. She let out a cry of pain, clenching her teeth against the flare of heat that filled her body as the arrow sunk into her flesh. "Breck!" Arthur yelled sharply behind her in panic. _

_Cynric had recovered enough to run his blade through the Saxon that shot at her, glowering at the archers nearby and reminding them with a growl that she was to be kept alive. Breck ignored the cry of her friends and fought her way through the pain, grimacing as she lifted her bow again and sent another shot into the enemy lines. A scowl crossed her face when her arrow didn't meet its target and she was just loading another when a hard yank on her cloak sent her sprawling to her back. Unsurprisingly, Tristan had come to collect her and was dragging her to safety. _

_Now that they were out of the range of the Saxon archers, Tristan dropped down on his knee in front of her and inspected the arrow protruding from her shoulder. "Does Dagonet live?" She asked him quickly. _

_Tristan looked at her for a long moment before turning his eyes to the right. Breck followed his gaze and felt her heart sink when she spotted the men all crowding in around Dagonet – the healer lay lifeless on the snow covered ground and the pleading cries that tore from Bors' lips seemed to echo in her head…_

Her worst fears had come true. Dagonet, her friend and confidant, had fallen in a battle against the very people she'd tried to protect him from. Today was the day that he was supposed to obtain his freedom – instead, he had received death. It had been seven years since she had last lost someone that she truly cared about and the combination of sadness, anger, and absolute failure had made most of her senses go numb. Breck had failed Dagonet so horribly and she was never going to forgive herself for it.

"How is your shoulder?" The Woad woman asked quietly next to her.

Breck managed to pull herself from her own negative thoughts and glanced over at her with a blank expression. Tristan had pulled the arrow out of her shoulder back at the lake and though the wound was not too deep, it still left the area feeling stiff and tender. She rotated it and almost welcomed the pain that followed the move – her friend had died to save them, the least she could do was suffer a bit in payment. "It will be fine." She answered with a small nod of her head.

The woman nodded and eyed her with sympathy. "You cared for him greatly." She stated knowingly.

"Aye." Breck answered, her voice cracking a bit. "Dagonet was a very good man and very good friend."

The Woad nodded. "Yes, I believe he was." She agreed, looking as though she were reflecting on a memory of her own for a moment. "Breck –" she must have heard the men shouting her name back at the lake, because the women had yet to introduce themselves to one another, "– I am sorry for your loss." She said sincerely.

"My thanks…" She trailed off, looking to her questioningly since she did not know her name.

"Guinevere." The Woad introduced herself.

They may have spoken more but mindless chatter seemed inappropriate in that moment. The men were not far ahead of them and the way they held themselves let everyone know how affected they were by Dagonet's death. Bors was so deep into his grief that he had yet to say a word to anyone. Breck wanted to say something, anything, to ease his grief, but how could she when she was in just as sad of a state? Not for the first time, she wished that Tristan had not been sent out to make sure the roads were clear – she desperately wanted him by her side, even if just for the knowledge that he was alive and breathing and with her.

Her eyes turned to Dagonet's body again and she had to close her eyes against the wave of grief that coursed through her. _Please, God – take no more from me. _She pleaded silently. _I shall not survive losses like these anymore. _

Within the hour they had reconvened with Tristan and made it safely back to the Wall again, turning onto the road that would eventually lead them back to the main gate of the fort. The convoy breathed a little easier knowing that they were nearing the end of their journey but it didn't do much to abate their depression – the air around them was still heavy and full of sadness as they trekked along in relative silence. By mid-afternoon they were passing through the large doors and crossing back into the protective borders of Hadrian's Wall, yet the sense of relief Breck might have felt at being home did not come like she suspected it would. Instead, she could only gaze down at the towns' inhabitants as they passed by and wonder if they too would shortly be meeting the same fate Dagonet had.

She hadn't realized that she'd come to a halt on the side of the road until Tristan trotted back over to her, stopping Azia once he was by her side again. They had been travelling along side one another since he had rejoined the caravan and his concern for her had been obvious enough, but neither had tried to prod the other into talking about their inner turmoil. "Breck?" He asked unsurely.

"I…" She started to say before taking a deep breath. "I need a moment." Breck finally told him. "Go forth with the others – I will meet with you soon."

Tristan hesitated for only a second and then nodded at her once in understanding. While he and the convoy continued on to meet with Bishop Germanius again, Breck instead turned Lugh in the direction of the stables. The townsfolk that she passed looked at her with wariness but she didn't give a damn about how frightening she might appear in that moment. The emotions that were waging war inside of her head were beginning to overwhelm her and she desperately needed to be alone so that she could grieve in private.

The stables were only a semi-welcome sight – everywhere she looked she felt like she could see Dagonet and she frowned deeply, her eyes beginning to fill with unshed tears as she finally dismounted Lugh and led him back into his stall. Breck had to blink rapidly, trying to see through the watery haze that was beginning to conceal her vision, and clumsily worked at ridding Lugh of his saddle. Her horse could obviously sense her distress because he nudged her three times with his nose, his eyes staring unblinkingly at her. Breck paused and leaned into him for a moment, resting her forehead on his broad shoulder for a source of comfort while the first tears began to fall.

She was never going to see Dagonet again. Had she known, she might have said more meaningful things to him in their final moments together – like how admirable of a man he was and how much she had come to cherish both his companionship and his opinion. Breck shook her head and let out a bitter chuckle, finally pulling away from Lugh and then freeing him of his saddle. She might have felt guilty about slamming the stall door in Lugh's face but her sad emotions were quickly converting to that of anger, and as soon as she was out of Lugh's stall she threw her saddle across the stables with a sob.

"He did not deserve his fate!" Breck practically shouted up to the ceiling. "Have I not sacrificed enough already that you would show mercy on these men now? Who next, God? Arthur? Tristan? Who else shall you rob me of?"

After that she was a mindless hurricane of fury, not realizing that she was overturning benches and throwing things about in her grief-driven-rage until the damage had been done and the stables looked a mess. She could feel blood running down the length of her left arm and her wound was throbbing painfully, making her wince as she leaned heavily against the stall that usually housed Dagonet's horse. Breck did nothing to wipe away the tears that flowed freely down her cheeks and stared unseeingly within the depths of the stall before her. Her loyalty to God had been something that remained steadfast within her since converting, but at that particular moment, she was beginning to feel herself slip into uncertainty. How much more would she be forced to endure? How much more could God take from her?

For the first time in a long time, Breck found her thoughts turning to her old guardian – Father Padraig. When she had come to him, she had been nothing but a hate-filled, revenge driven teenager that had barely been able to keep a handle on her own rage. Somehow, whenever she would work herself into a state such as this, Father Padraig always knew what to say to bring her back to normalcy. She remembered his words now and closed her eyes, trying to calm the irrational thoughts swirling within her head.

_God has chosen you, Breck_, Father Padraig would often say. _You have made sacrifices, but not in vain. Now and again, even He requires help to rid the world of that which is evil. You have been given the strength to do so – now you must answer the call of your destiny._

Breck may never know why she had been chosen for such trying conquests, but if God wanted Cynric dead then she would gladly see to it. Dagonet had died so that they would have a chance to survive – now she was going to take the opportunity he had given her to finish the man responsible for his demise. Then she was going after the root of all of this evil; Cerdic. She could only hope with all her might now that her days of burying the ones that she cared for were over. Maybe once this was all over, God would finally reward her by gifting her a normal life; one to be spent away from war, in the company of her friends, and happily loving Tristan for the rest of her days.

She just had to survive this war, first.

* * *

By the time she had cleared the rubble of her grief from the stables, washed her face, and made it to the burial grounds the men had already placed Dagonet in his freshly-dug grave. Breck smiled half-heartedly at Vanora as she passed by, patting the woman's unusually quiet brood of children on their heads in greeting, before making her way over to the men. She shared a brief look with Tristan but continued on directly to Bors, wrapping the large man up in as tight of a hug as her armor would allow. He didn't protest like she thought he might – instead, he returned her hug with a vice-like embrace of his own and roughly patted her on the back.

"Words cannot properly express the sympathy I have for you." She whispered for only him to hear. "But know that his death shall not go unavenged." There was a look of respect in his eyes when she pulled away from the hug and she offered him one last tiny smile before turning her focus to Arthur.

He was staring down into the grave with a vacant expression on his face but looked up when he felt her gaze on him. Though he usually masked what he truly felt, there was obvious sadness in his eyes. Breck wanted to go to him and wanted to comfort him but he averted his gaze and went to collect a shovel before she could. The other men immediately followed his suit and shuffled past her to help their commanding officer bury the fallen warrior.

"Goodbye, my dear friend. It was an honor to have lived and fought by your side." Breck whispered in her mother's native tongue, watching as the grave began to slowly fill with dirt and conceal Dagonet from the rest of the world. "You have taken him, Father, now show him the way." She added before closing her eyes and saying a quick prayer.

The eulogy Arthur delivered was brief but meaningful. It was clear that the grief and shock that came with losing their friend, and only just a short time ago, still weighed heavily on the men and on Arthur and Breck suspected that Arthur was trying to make this parting as quick and painless as possible. Once they offered up their papers of freedom to Dagonet as a means of repayment, the men only lingered for a moment longer before dispersing, obviously drained emotionally and physically from the days' events. Breck eyed the grave for one more moment before Tristan was stepping into her line of view, his eyes on her shoulder and the blood that could be spotted on her armor.

"That needs tending." He said plainly. "Go to your quarters – I will meet you there."

Breck nodded silently as Tristan left in the direction of town and then gazed over at Arthur for a long moment. He had crouched down by his father's unmarked grave and the turmoil rolling off of his tensed shoulders could be felt all the way from where she stood. Without any hesitation, Breck began making her way to him but froze when Guinevere got to him first. She debated going to interrupt but decided against it – she could sense that something was transpiring between Arthur and Guinevere and chose to give them their space instead.

The sun had set when she finally walked back into the familiar surroundings of her quarters. It felt very strange to be back in the quiet, cozy room after such a tumultuous couple of days. The last time she had been in this place was when she had spent the night with Tristan – things had been peaceful, she had been happy, and the room had almost felt like a haven for the privacy she and Tristan yearned for. Now she almost felt like an intruder. She eyed the quaint room for another moment and then went to make a fire in the small fireplace, wanting to rid the room of the eerie chill that had settled in.

She was working at the ties of her armor when Tristan arrived about a half hour later. He didn't bother knocking as he strode into the room, his hands laden with bandages and vials, and Breck couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at him when he dumped the contents onto the table. "There _is _an infirmary." She reminded him as she went over to inspect the medical supplies.

"Given the circumstances, I presumed you would not wish to be near it." Tristan answered as he sorted through the supplies, arranging them into a neat line so he would be able to find what he wanted with more ease.

"I see." Breck said quietly. There was a stretch of silence until she turned her back on him. "Help me with my ties."

He began to deftly undo the bindings that held her armor to her and she sighed in relief at being rid of it for the first time in days. She knew she had to stink to high heaven thanks to the build up of sweat, dirt, and blood but Tristan didn't remark on it if she did. Breck closed her eyes as the fresh air seeped through her tunic and soothingly caressed her skin, sighing as the metal pieces were slowly pulled off of her. She winced when Tristan removed the metal that surround her wound and then glanced at her left arm with a grimace once it was free of the protective outerwear – her entire arm was covered in blood.

"What did you do?" He asked, eyeing the injury with a displeased look.

"Relieved some of my anger." Breck answered simply with a shrug of her good shoulder. "It appears worse then it is."

Tristan raised a stern eyebrow and then pushed her until she sat on top of the table. He seemed torn over the best approach to reach the wound and a thrill shot through her despite everything as he eyed the ties of her tunic. For a moment it seemed he might pull the shirt up over her head but, instead, he produced his dagger and cut through the sleeve of her shirt instead. The sense of disappointment she felt at this move surprised her and she cleared her throat as he reached for the clear vial of antibacterial liquid.

"I should have done more." Breck said slowly, hissing when he dribbled from of the liquid onto her shoulder and then pressed a bandage firmly against it to stop the bleeding. "I did not nearly attempt hard enough to save Dagonet."

"You did what you could, as did all of us." Tristan reminded her, pulling his eyes away from the wound so he could look into her eyes with a firm expression. "Our enemy is the one at fault."

Breck stared at him for a long moment and then sighed. She supposed he was right. By this point, no good would come out of mulling over all of the 'what if's – Dagonet was gone and there was nothing that could be done to change that now. Breck knew from experience that these musings would only drive her to insanity and finally nodded her agreement with Tristan's words, pushing all of the guilty thoughts away. "I wish for this to be over." She admitted quietly. "Cerdic has dictated my life for far too long – I yearn to be rid of him."

Tristan was quiet for a long moment before he reached up and brushed some stray curls from her face. "Your wish will be granted soon, I promise you."

"Can you also promise no harm will come to you?" She asked, her eyes pleading with him as she showed him just how vulnerable she was actually feeling.

He let out an uncharacteristic, heavy sigh and shook his head. "I cannot make a promise I know I cannot keep." Tristan responded.

She nodded her understanding, reaching up to place her hand over his where it lay resting on her neck now and only released him when he moved to finish tending to her wound. Tristan may not be able to ensure his own survival, but Breck swore to herself right then that she was going make certain he survived the war that was nearly upon them. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the best thing to ever happen to her throughout the course of her turbulent life and Breck refused to let any ill-fate find him. She loved this man with every fiber of her being and she would gladly give her life if it meant preserving his.

Breck watched him as he finished cleaning her wound and then began to tie a firm bandage around the awkwardly placed injury. The Saxons were close and more then likely only getting closer – what if this was their last night together? Breck easily recalled the hunger and the passion that had driven him that same morning, back when Dagonet was still alive and they were still on the run, and felt her own body temperature begin to rise. There was no way of knowing what the future held for them. If this was their last night together, she wanted to take advantage of it; she wanted to know Tristan's touch, wanted him to make love to her. And he must have felt the shift in her demeanor because when his eyes met hers again, they were a shade darker then what they usually were. Quite suddenly, any remaining chill in the room seemed to evaporate and she suspected he may be contemplating the same thing she was.

One last tug secured the bandage around her shoulder and Tristan straightened up, beginning to move away from her as he cleared his throat. Breck found this unacceptable – her hands quickly fisted the material of his armored tunic and she pulled him back to her until he was standing between her legs. "Breck – " He started to say.

She ignored him, wrapped an arm around his neck, and then pulled him in close so she could kiss him. The hesitation in Tristan was obvious but as she pressed her own body closer to his, moving against him in a way that clearly stated her intent, a low moan emitted from his throat and he began to return her kiss with just as much need. His hands ran boldly over her body and acquainted themselves with areas he'd never dared to breech, drawing out a whimper from her. Her body was flush against his now and her hands seemed to have a mind of their own; they tugged at his hair, pulled at his tunic, _anything _to be as close to him as she possibly could. His hands had found their way under her tunic and the feel of his fingers on her bare skin had her kissing him with renewed vigor, drawing out another sound of approval from him.

When her fingers moved to the front of his armor to begin working at the ties, Tristan tore his lips from hers and quickly pulled his hands out from underneath her shirt. "Breck, we must stop." He said huskily, reaching up to grasp her hands. When she ignored him and instead pressed kisses all along his jaw and neck, making him tremble at her ministrations, she thought he might give in to her. But he remained steadfast in his control and gently pushed her away. "Breck, _listen to me_."

The firm slap of rejection ricocheted through her and she pulled her hands from his, looking at him with a hurt expression. This was the first time she had attempted to seduce a man and she had failed – had she gone about it the wrong way or did Tristan simply not want her? "You have had other women – why not me?" She demanded to know.

Tristan didn't look pleased with the approach she'd taken but reached for her hands again, holding them tightly within his own. "Because no other woman has _meant _anything." He responded. "Breck, it is not for lack of desire." He said reassuringly. "I have _never _yearned for another the way I yearn for you."

His words had eased her anxiety and she offered a small smile, pressing closer to him. "Then make love to me." Breck said before leaning in to kiss him again.

Tristan responded to her kiss for a moment before pushing her away again, though this time it appeared it had taken a great amount of his willpower to do so. The effect she had on him was obvious and she could not help but feel triumphant, if not a little proud of herself. "I cannot. Not on this night." He said slowly, a firm and resolved look on his face. She knew that look – Tristan had made up his mind and she would most likely not be able to convince him otherwise.

"The Saxons will be here any moment – " Breck started to argue.

"Yes." Tristan agreed, cutting in to her argument. "But we have both suffered on this day – I wish for this to happen under the correct circumstances, not as a means of consoling or out of fear of what lies ahead." He admitted to her, sounding so uncharacteristically romantic that she thought she might be dreaming for a moment.

Breck let out a sigh and leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder in resignation. He released her hands to wrap her up in his arms and she returned his embrace when she felt him breathe a kiss into her hair. There was no use in holding his decision against him, especially because it was probably the most gentlemanly thing she'd ever known him to do. She hampered down all over her urges to ravish the man holding her and heaved out another sigh. "You choose _now _to be noble?" She muttered into his chest.

"Yes, but with great effort." He grumbled in her ear before he pulled away to be able to look at her. Breck dropped her gaze down to the necklace she had given him, pressing a hand over the medallion that rested against his chest, before meeting his gaze again. Tristan leaned in and gave her another kiss, keeping it brief this time around. "Breck…" He started before taking in a deep breath. "I love you."

It was the first time he had ever outright told her that he loved her without her having to prompt him into doing so. And in spite of Dagonet's death, and the approaching Saxons, and that fact that her shoulder was throbbing painfully again, she could not suppress the happiness that swarmed her at his profession. "I love you, too, Tristan."

* * *

Despite the heat that still lingered between them, Tristan agreed to stay the night with her again and went to fetch them supper while she lingered behind in her quarters to clean herself up a bit. Once he returned, he shed his armor and weapons before joining her at the table to eat. As they began to discuss plans for the upcoming battle, Breck could not help but wish they had put this time of solitude to better use. But Tristan was being a gentleman and trying to go about this aspect of their relationship the right way – she had to respect him for it and honor his decision.

About an hour later, when she and Tristan were just beginning to settle in for the night, a loud knock sounded on the door. Breck frowned, glad she hadn't changed into her shift yet, and went to see who was calling on her so late. The door opened up to reveal Galahad and the look on his face was one that did not comfort her. "You should come to the Wall." He said, glancing at Tristan when he came to stand behind Breck. "Now."

Breck was out of the door in a flash, Tristan right on her heels after he grabbed his sword. Galahad was walking so quickly that she almost had to jog to catch up with him. "What has happened?" Tristan asked.

Galahad turned a look on them, looking concerted. "Our guests have arrived."

Breck immediately hurried her pace and began to push through the crowd of villagers that was steadily growing thicker by the moment. The fright amongst the townsfolk was palpable and many were speaking to each other in hurried voices, their eyes wide and fearful as they watched her and the knights make their way to the stone stairway. Breck finally pushed through the last throng of people and hurried up the steps, only stopping once she could gaze out at the land on the other side of the Wall. Before the Wall were hundreds of burning torches and bonfires, providing just enough light to be able to make out the movement of the army that was settling in for the night.

The Saxons had arrived.

* * *

**A/N: Oh my word, we're almost to the end here my little chickens! One more chapter and then the big battle. Excited? You should be. Because I've already written it. And it's awesome. **

**Review!**


	35. Chapter 34

**I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

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There were far more Saxons then she remembered. Their numbers had always been intimidating, but now there were so many warriors moving around out in the dark, open fields that it almost looked as though the land were actually the dark, rolling waves of an ocean. They could hear sounds of raucous laughter and loud conversation amongst the barbarians and she narrowed her eyes at their audacity. They sounded more like a joyous, travelling caravan rather than an invading army – the smug bastards has come as though they hadn't a care in the world; like taking the Wall would be _easy_.

Galahad and Tristan stared out at the enemy wordlessly while Gawain, Bors, and Guinevere were all lingered nearby, watching her reaction. Breck turned to them with furrowed brows, the warrior in her beginning to take over. "Where is Arthur? Has he seen this?" She asked.

Guinevere was the one to answer. "He was just present. I believe he retreated to his quarters." Breck nodded and returned her attention to the Saxons below them. "If you go to meet with him, I wish to come." The Woad added firmly, leaving no room for argument.

"Do as you will." Breck responded.

"What do they keep _yelling_?" Gawain asked in exasperation. "They have not stopped since they arrived. Breck – what do they say?"

Everyone fell silent and watched her expectantly, waiting for her to translate what was being yelled. If she strained her ears hard enough, she could just barely make out the Germanic words that were being directed at them on the wind. It took a moment to decipher what they were saying since she could barely hear them, but when she did she immediately saw red – first it was the insulting words about her mother, then the ones about her father, that made her hand clench into a tight fist. The Saxons took turns hurling out taunts and jibes about her parents for a few moments before they proceeded to shout out all of the things they had planned for _her_ once she was caught. Breck took a step back from the ledge with a glare fixed on her face. _The nerve of them…_

"Can you hear them? What do they say?" Galahad asked.

"Their words are meant for me." She said darkly. "And you do _not _want be enlightened on the matter – trust my words." With that being said, she glared out at the resting army for one more second and then turned to Tristan. "We need to speak with Arthur." She said, earning herself a nod of agreement from him.

"Breck, you _must_ see reason!" Galahad said immediately, gathering her attention quickly. "Your numbers are too few! This is suicide!" He said, pointing out towards the Saxons with an exasperated look on his face.

"Galahad, this needs to be done." Breck responded firmly. "You have known all along my plans for Cerdic and I will not retreat now when the opportunity to end him is finally upon me. Do not worry – our allies are strong." She added reassuringly. "You lot should make ready to take your leave. The opportunity to flee shall not be available for much longer."

Galahad and Gawain began to protest again but Bors stood up quickly, waving his hands at them in a dismissive manner. "Shut up. Shut up." He grumbled at the two Sarmatians, silencing the men with one firm stare. When he rounded on Breck, Tristan, and Guinevere he took a deep breath and then let it out as a heave. Then he inclined his head in their direction. "Go. Find Arthur and do what you must." He said encouragingly, motioning for them to get going.

Breck took a moment to step forward and place a hand on his shoulder before giving it a hard slap in relation for all the times he'd done the very thing to her. He winched a bit and it made her smirk. "See you after." She said earnestly. "All of you." Breck added, looking pointedly at Galahad and Gawain.

"Give 'em hell." Bors said fiercely.

"Come – we haven't much time." Tristan urged behind her.

Breck took a last long look at the three Sarmatians before her and then let Tristan lead her away, his eyes lingering on the Saxons to send one last cold look in their direction before he was trailing after her. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that Guinevere was following them as well and Breck faced forward again to begin weaving her way through the crowd of villagers. She hoped the knights would be able to get away fast enough. Furthermore, she hoped _all _of the people residing at Hadrian's Wall were able to make their escape. Currently, though, the townsfolk were all standing around looking completely at a loss of what to do, beginning to barrage her with questions as she tried to make her way to Arthur's quarters.

"Where do we go?"

"What do we do?"

"We shall all perish!"

"Breck! _Breck_!"

The call of her name over the increasingly loud crowd made her pause and she turned to search for the source, trying to determine who it was that was attempting to get her attention. She finally spotted Jols roughly pushing his way towards her and motioned for Tristan and Guinevere to wait, watching her employer as he made his way through the town's inhabitants that loitered about. By his side was Ganis and trailing behind them was a dozen or so men, all with similar resolute expressions on their faces. It would have been hard to misunderstand the group's intention and she knew, without having to be told, that these men had already decided that they were going to fight.

They finally came to a halt in front of Breck, Tristan, and Guinevere and Jols took a moment to eye each of them before focusing wholly on Breck. "Arthur has a plan." He said plainly, crossing his arms as he squared his shoulders. "And if I know you as well as I believe, you are involved. We wish to join." Jols finished plainly, gesturing to the men standing around him as they all nodded their agreement.

Breck shared a sideways glance with Tristan. "Aye, a plan has been formed." She confirmed before raising a skeptical brow and eyeing the men before her. Most appeared to be farmers or stable-workers, and though it wasn't certain if any had ever even wielded a sword before, the men seemed prepared to do what was necessary and the fact still remained that they needed all the help they could get. "You see what awaits us – you are confident you wish to be involved?" Breck questioned.

"This is our _home_." A man said firmly, stepping forward to gain her attention. Breck thought she remembered seeing him in the tavern once or twice. "I'll not hand it over to those barbarians without a fight."

A murmur of agreement broke out amongst the men again, all of them nodding their heads. "And Arthur helped us when it was not required of him." Ganis added, speaking for the handful of men that had been living at the Roman estate. "I was excluded from one battle but shall not sit idly by again. We wish to fight."

Breck and Tristan shared a look before she nodded and motioned for the men to follow them. "Right." She conceded with a nod. "Come on then. We go to meet with Arthur."

The rest of the crowds finally parted for the large group as they made their way through the square and headed for the main hall that housed Arthur's quarters, the council room, and the Round Table. Tristan wordlessly led everyone inside the building and then through the winding hallways, Breck and Guinevere falling into step behind him while their new comrades bringing up the rear. The once silent hallways were now filled with the echoing voices of the men as they began to talk eagerly about the impending war and Guinevere glanced back at them for a second before turning her attention back to Breck, an almost amused smirk playing on her lips.

"They are no warriors…" Guinevere mused quietly to Breck. "But their eagerness is admirable."

"They fight for a purpose. Sometimes it is the motivation, not the weapon, that makes the warrior so fearsome." Breck responded wisely. Guinevere shot her an impressed look. "Do you mean to fight then?" She asked the Woad as an afterthought.

"Yes." She responded immediately. "I am of these lands – I will not abandon my home or my people." Guinevere said firmly.

"Good." Breck said with an approving nod. "This fight will not be won easily." She admitted with a frown. "I only wish Arthur could have met with Merlin before the Saxons arrived – we need to find a way to coordinate his plan with your people."

Guinevere immediately frowned in confusion. "Arthur did meet with Merlin." She said. Breck's eyebrows shot up and she looked to the Woad in surprise. "He met with my father the night you scouted with your man." She said, nodding in the direction of Tristan before raising a quizzical brow in Breck's direction. "He did not tell you?"

"No." She said with a shake of her head. "Much happened when we returned, though, so time did not allow much conversation. Was the council successful?"

"Successful enough – they both live to see another day." Guinevere informed her. "Though there was no talk of battle plans. We shall have to remedy that and with haste." This was at least _some _bit of good news – if Arthur and Merlin had managed to meet without killing one another, that was definitely a step in the right direction. And having Guinevere on their side would only help in trying to map out a plan of attack with the Woads.

As they had suspected, Arthur was located in his council room and they found him standing at the Round Table with parchment and maps scattered all over the surface before him. He looked concentrated and determined as he poured over the paperwork but was clearly caught by surprise when the large group came waltzing into the room unannounced. He reached for his sword immediately, drawing it out as he turned to face the newcomers, but then relaxed when it registered in his head that he was not being attacked. "It is not wise to sneak about when Saxons linger just outside of our borders." He said sourly, dropping his sword back onto the table.

"Relax – the only Saxon present is no enemy." Breck said, waving off his defensive attitude. Guinevere's wide eyes stared at her in complete surprise with the revealing of her lineage, but Breck ignored the look and continued on to the table. "And we hardly sneak – had your ears been more aware, you would have heard our approach."

Arthur quirked a brow at her and then regarded the group before him. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked curiously.

"We come to offer our swords." Jols said, speaking for the group. "What be our orders?"

Arthur was silent as he glanced around at the men before him. "This matter is very serious – this enemy is the fiercest we have faced yet." He explained in warning. When it was clear that none of the volunteers were about to back down, he nodded and let out a sigh. "Very well." He conceded before gesturing towards the table. "Sit."

The men stood frozen for a beat, awestruck over the fact that Arthur wished for them to sit in the same places that the great Sarmatian knights normally occupied, and then quickly moved to fill the empty seats with excited looks on their faces. Breck made to sit by Tristan but moved to join Arthur instead when he called for her, motioning her over with a crook of his finger. He rifled around his pile of maps for a moment before pulling out a sizeable sheet of parchment that had the layout of the fort on it. Arthur then moved to one of the walls that was nearest to the table and hung it up so that everyone was within view of it. "You are as much apart of this as I – if not more." Arthur murmured to her quietly when she appeared at his side. "Stand by my side as I address the men." He urged, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Breck immediately felt honored by his words and nodded her consent, taking a stance on one side of the map as Arthur took his place on the other. At once, all of the conversation in the room stopped and every pair of eyes turned to them in eager anticipation.

"I will speak plainly." Arthur said with authoritative tone to his voice. "We are outnumbered in this battle. We have help from friends," he continued, eyeing the men, "and have formed an alliance with the Woads," Arthur looked pointedly to Guinevere, "but this enemy is vast and cruel and will show no mercy. The task before us is no simple one."

With that being said, he turned to the map. "Outside the protection of the Wall, we stand no chance. Our objective is to lure them into our territory and deplete their numbers to the best of our ability with any and every tool at our disposal. Jols, Ganis –" Arthur addressed the two men before pointing to the spaced out dots on the map, "– in the morn, take your men, douse every hay barrel you see with oil, and set fire to them. The smoke will conceal us from the enemy and create the diversion we need to attack. Then pour a line of oil here." He continued, motioning to the long line that spanned between the battlefield and the gate. "Once aflame, this should close off any escape routes. Then take your men and man the gate – the Wall is your station."

Jols and Ganis both nodded their consent. "Tristan and I shall station ourselves on the hill to draw them in." Arthur said once he was satisfied that Jols and Ganis were clear on their orders. "The Saxons believe they are being met with no resistance – our presence should prod the enemy into action."

"What of the other knights?" Jols asked curiously.

"They are not involved." Breck answered him at once. Many looked surprised at this news but none argued the fact.

"What of my people?" Guinevere piped up, drawing everyone's attention. "Where are we needed?"

"Take your comrades and position yourselves here." Arthur instructed, pointing to the tree line that sat west of the battlefield. "We will be in dire need of your archers."

"And in dire need of our catapults as well?" Guinevere asked with a smirk.

Breck and Arthur shared a look. "Catapults?" Breck asked with raised eyebrows before looking to the map. The only reasonable place for such large contraptions was the hill where Arthur and Tristan would be stationed. "The hill is our most promising option." Breck reasoned, glancing to Arthur for his opinion on the matter. "And it would be useful to have a line of Woads stationed behind your position. You will need reinforcements."

"Agreed." Arthur said before nodding and turning back to Guinevere. "The catapults may be stationed on the hill once Tristan and I have taken our leave, along with a line of foot soldiers. But do not send them into battle until the proper moment – we need to be as sparing with our numbers as possible."

"Understood." Guinevere agreed. "Might I suggest one more adjustment to this plan?" Arthur pursed his lips but nodded anyway. Guinevere stood from her seat and walked to the map under Arthur's watchful gaze. "Instead of using fire to prevent their escape," she said before sliding her index finger right through the marks that symbolized the Saxons, "let us use it to divide their forces."

Arthur looked as impressed as Breck felt at the idea. "Divide their forces." He repeated as he pondered the idea, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "It would make their numbers less daunting…"

"And some _will _perish in the fire." Breck added, looking to Guinevere with a small smile.

"Precisely." Guinevere said with a nod. "The catapults will devastate the numbers that face the pair of you and the rest of the Saxons will have us to answer to." She said determinedly.

"The Saxons will not expect this." Breck said, knowing all too well that the army's smug and brash way of fighting would wind up only hurting themselves if this plan went accordingly. "They will find themselves surprised and unprepared – the bastards will march straight into our traps completely unawares."

"Make the changes." Arthur said in agreement before turning to face the rest of their comrades. "Once the Saxons are divided, you are free to choose your battles." He instructed. There was a long silence as the men all nodded, some shaking each other's hands, and then Arthur spoke up again. "Words cannot properly express my gratitude for the sacrifice each of you makes." He said earnestly. "Go and prepare, for tomorrow we meet our enemy head on. May God and Lady Luck be with you."

There was a round of clapping and then the sound of chairs scraping over the stone floor as Jols, Ganis, and the rest of the villagers all stood to depart. Breck turned her gaze back onto the map as some men came to shake Arthur's hand and pursed her lips. The plan seemed foolproof and solid, and she had never been more happy about siding with the Woads as she did in that exact moment, but there was only one problem – Breck had no idea where she was supposed to be stationed. She had known the general schematics when it came down to their battle before that night and Breck had always assumed she would be fighting alongside Arthur and Tristan. The fact that Arthur had not mentioned her presence with them left her feeling a bit confused.

"Arthur –" Breck said to catch his attention once the last of their new comrades was closing the door behind him, "– exactly how do I contribute into this plan?" She asked him, raising an inquisitive brow.

"Yes, I thought you may ask such a question." Arthur said before motioning for her to follow him back to the table. He shuffled some of the papers around and produced a smaller version of the map that hung on the wall. "The Woads need to be informed of our plan, but I do not have the means to do so myself. Travel to the Woad camp and present Merlin with this." He commanded as he handed the parchment over to her. "Be my voice this night and prepare them for battle."

Breck was almost surprised that he had given her such an important job to do and nodded her head in agreement, taking the map from him without a word. That was when the Sarmatian scout finally chose to speak up. "You cannot go to the Woad camp." Tristan interjected sharply before Arthur could continue speaking. "Saxons have overrun that side of the Wall."

"I have no need to go north." Breck said to him reassuringly. "My last instruction for Merlin was to begin sending Woads south of the Wall. They will be present already." Tristan breathed a little easier at this information.

"Good." Arthur said before placing a hand on her shoulder. "In regards to the upcoming battle, I have one more request of you." He said, casting a quick glance in Tristan's direction. "Since Tristan and I shall have act as the decoy, I will not be completely available to lead the Woads." Arthur explained. "I need you to join their ranks and guide them."

Tristan looked highly displeased to hear this request and Breck frowned at once. Arthur wanted her to fight with the Woads? She would not be fighting with him and Tristan? An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach and she glanced at Tristan before turning a hesitant look back on Arthur. "Why not Guinevere?"

"Because the Woads necessitate your knowledge and your experience – and because my trust in you is insurmountable." He reasoned with her. "When it is a question of who I believe to be most capable of leading in my stead, I believe that person to be you."

Breck heaved and turned her eyes to Tristan again. The idea of _not _fighting by his side did not sit well with her at all, but if Arthur truly believed this was the most beneficial course of action, who was she to argue against him? After all, his reputation for being the fiercest warrior in all of Briton had not come by chance – Arthur had earned it. She had to trust that he knew exactly what he was doing. "Agreed." She finally said, though a bit begrudgingly so.

"Arthur – " Tristan started to say.

"My word is final." He said firmly, stopping the Sarmatian's argument with one stern expression. Then he was directing his attention back to Breck. "Take your leave as soon as possible – the Woads will need to prepare." He suggested to her. He looked to the Woad that still studied the map and Breck did not overlook the glint in his eyes as he eyed the woman. "And take Guinevere with you. You may provide her a horse."

Once Breck had nodded her agreement, Arthur pulled her into a tight hug. She wrapped her arms around him in return, accepting his embrace gladly. The next time she was going to see him would be when they joined forces on the battlefield and the thought made her tighten her arms around her neck. She turned her eyes up, quickly asking God to protect the friend that had done so much for her. "You are a great man, Arthur. You always have been." She whispered in his ear. "I am proud to call you my brother."

Arthur was smiling when she pulled back. "And I am equally proud to call you my sister." He responded before kissing her forehead. Then he released her and turned his eyes on Tristan, unaffected by the man's irritable stature. "Return once you have seen Breck off, friend. We have much to discuss." He said before patting the Sarmatian on the shoulder and beginning to gather up all of his papers.

Tristan came to join her without so much as a word in response to Arthur's command and Breck was glad when Guinevere said she would be along shortly to reconvene with her in the stables. At least this way she and Tristan could say their goodbyes in private.

The hour had grown late by now and though the streets were deserted again, the lights that flickered in the windows of the houses they passed by signaled that many were still wide awake. It was easier to hear the noise that emitted from the other side of the Wall in the silence of the town and Breck stared at the gate when they went past, almost unable to believe that the enemy would be pouring through those very doors in just a matter of hours. She averted her attention over to Tristan and moved closer when she noticed how tense he was. He glanced down at her, his demeanor easing in the slightest, and did not push her away when she looped her arm through his.

"The protection around me shall be plentiful." She reminded him.

"The Woads only care for their own." He shot back at her.

"Merlin trusts me." Breck responded. "And my worth will only be further proven upon returning Guinevere alive and well."

They had finished the short trek to where their quarters resided now and Tristan pulled her to a halt outside of her door. "I care not." He said defiantly. "You and I _will _meet on the battlefield and you _will_ fight by my side."

"Is this a command, _master_?" Breck asked with raised eyebrows.

"Breck, be serious." He growled in frustration.

"Tristan, you fool, my intention from the beginning was to join you." She said with a shake of her head. "I worry for you as greatly as you do me. I will find you as quickly as possible, I promise." Tristan nodded and then opened her door for her, motioning her to go inside. "Will you come in?" She asked curiously when he didn't follow her through the doorway.

"No." He said with a shake of his head. "You shall go nowhere tonight if I do." He stated bluntly.

Breck nodded and then stepped back out onto the doorstep so she could wrap her arms around him. Tristan accepted her embrace, gave her one long kiss, and then took a hesitant step away from her. She wanted to go to him, wanted to hug him and never release him again, but refrained. Instead, she simply stepped back in her room and offered him a small smile. "I will see you on the battlefield."

Tristan's response was to incline his head to her for one moment before he turned on his heel and strode off in the direction of Arthur's quarters without a backward glance. She watched him go for a long moment and then turned to head inside and grab her weapons and armor, quickly stuffing them into her travelling bag and then heading out to meet with Guinevere in the stables once she was ready to go.

* * *

By midnight, Breck and Guinevere had reconvened with the Woads. Within an hour after arriving, the Celt had held a long, private meeting with Merlin to discuss Arthur's course of action and then personally relayed the battle plans to the Woad warriors once Merlin had given her the go ahead – Guinevere would lead the Woads in the west tree line while Breck and Merlin would head the warriors that manned the catapults and were stationed on the hill. For a long while the camp was busy as the native Brits began to make their preparations. But now, as everyone settled in to rest up for the impending fight, Breck sat propped against a tree near the edge of the forest with the breastplate of her armor in her lap and reveled in the silence. Her fingers scooped up more of the muddy earth around her before returning to the metal and continuing the task of drawing her clan's symbol onto her armor.

"No rest for you?"

Breck glanced up at Guinevere and shook her head. The woman had ditched the purple dress that she'd arrived in and had changed into what Breck assumed was her fighting garb. "My thoughts race far too quickly to sleep." She said.

"Mine as well." Guinevere agreed, coming to a halt next to her and crossing her arms as she stared out at the quite, peaceful lands before them. "The calm before the storm…" She mused before glancing down at her. Her eyes inspected the work Breck had done on her armor and she raised her eyebrows appraisingly. "I have seen that symbol around your man's neck."

"Aye, I gifted him with the pendent – tis the emblem of my people." Breck explained before shooting her a firm stare. "I shall ask you not to pry further."

If her words offended Guinevere, the woman did not show it. "You are Saxon." She said, changing the topic of conversation. Her expression was not one of hatred or distrust s she said the words, but there was a challenge lingering in her eyes that dared Breck to finally tell the truth to her.

"I am." Breck confirmed, finally giving the woman her full focus. "My father was Saxon and fought by Cerdic's side for many years. You might understand my trepidation in revealing such information." She concluded with a wry smile. "It has only ever earned me enemies."

"What changed?" Guinevere asked curiously, greatly interested in whatever Breck had to say. "What motivates you to stand against them now?"

Breck sighed and turned her eyes out to the calm scenery around her. There was no use keeping any more secrets now. "My father met my mother and then I was born." She said simply. "Cerdic had my mother and her unborn child murdered in retaliation to my father's…._betrayal_." She said bitingly. "Then he killed my father himself." Breck explained before meeting Guinevere's stunned eyes again. "This is why I fight. To avenge the family that was ripped away from me."

Guinevere was silent for a long moment and then faced Breck completely, inclining her head to the redhead woman sitting before her. "Your heart is true, Breck – I am honored to be taking the battlefield with you." She said fiercely. "I hope with all sincerity that vengeance will be yours on the morrow."

Breck looked to the woman with a newfound respect and nodded her head once gratefully. Guinevere retreated to go back to the other Woads after that without another word and Breck took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as she tried to enjoy the last moments of serene calmness that the quiet landscape provided. In only a few short hours, once the sun brought on the new day, she and the Woads would be leaving to take their positions. The uneasy feeling that had been plaguing her for so long was gnawing at her again and she shook her head against it, trying to force the feeling out of her.

They would not fail. They _could _not fail. She now only prayed that God wished for them to prevail as well and turned her eyes upwards once she opened them again, silently asking him to be with them and protect the ones that she loved.

* * *

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as the sun finally rose. The Woads were awake and alert and vibrantly blue with the refreshing of their war paint. Breck had not caught one wink of sleep the night before but did not feel tired in the slightest. Her body was far too jittery in anticipation to settle down and she felt as though she might burst out of her skin at any moment, her fingers barely managing to secure the ties of her armor as she dressed because they were trembling so badly. The wound to her shoulder was long forgotten and there were no hunger pains in her stomach despite the fact that she had not eaten since the previous evening. Her mind was focused on one thing and one thing only.

Today was the day that Cerdic and Cynric would meet their ends.

She could vaguely hear the sounds of Merlin addressing the Woads but paid them no mind since he spoke in the native language she didn't understand. Instead, she used the reflection of the armor on her arm as a mirror and brought her muddy fingers up to her own face, first drawing out the same war paint her father used to wear – one long streak of mud from her hairline to the end of her nose, then a short one dashed through the middle to make a cross; then a long curving line that followed the shape of her left eye before straightening out at the opposite corner until she reached her temple. Breck gathered up more mud and drew one long straight line from the top of her right eyebrow all the way down her face, past her neck, until it disappeared into her armor – a mark reminiscent of the scar her father had harbored. A Gaelic 'D' was drawn on her right cheek – for Dagonet. Then to finish, she used the space on the left side of her neck to draw out a large, Gaelic 'T' – for Tristan.

Breck felt a focus like she had never known before take over her body as she stood to her full height again. The blood in her veins pumped hard and fast and her heart was pounding in her chest. Her hair was only half tied back and hung wildly around her, just like her father's always had. There was no mistaking that the redheaded, female warrior was the daughter of Kenrick the Saxon and she was glad to know it – she _wanted _the enemy to recognize her.

When she finally turned her blue eyes up, the sight of smoke filling the air in the distance made her close her eyes and take a deep, calming breath. _This day is in your hands now, God. Have mercy on the ones who fight against evil and bring your wrath down upon those who mean to destroy that which is good. Give us the strength to prevail. _

With the end of her silent prayer, Breck turned to head over to the Woads. The feral glint in her eyes must have been intimidating because a number of soldiers scattered out of the way as she approached, eyeing her with a bit of wariness as she determinedly made her way to their leader. Merlin stopped speaking as soon as Breck was standing before him and the Celt-Saxon could feel the gazes of the Woads on her back as they watched her expectantly. She nodded to Merlin once, a fierce determination spreading through her limbs, and then finally spoke.

"It is time."

* * *

**A/N: Holy moly, even I'm tense and I wrote the dang chapter! My heart is pounding! **

**So…maybe…_just maybe_…if I get enough love and affection after posting this chapter…I might post the next one tonight when I get home from work. It's all in your hands now. **

**Just be prepared – we're about to be in for a very bumpy ride!**


	36. Chapter 35

**I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

**Warning: Lots of violence up head.**

* * *

Breck was acutely aware of everything that was happening around her – the creaking wheels of the catapults as they were pushed towards the battlefield, the heavy breathing of the fidgety Woads as they followed behind her, the innocently tweeting birds that fled from the smoky fields just ahead of them. The sun was beating down overhead but was starting to become less visible the closer the got to the hill. The ground was trembling with the movement of a thousand men, the earth seemingly trying to warn them of the nearby threat. With a start she noticed that six, not two, flags were planted firmly into the ground of the hill they travelled to and she shook her head when she recognized the tracks of numerous horses on the ground below them.

_Stubborn fools_, she thought to herself. But she could not suppress the smirk that etched its way onto her face. The men had come to fight along side their commanding officer when they could have fled for their lives – she had to admire their loyalty and determination.

The sound of the Saxon drums was loud in her ears, along with the chanting of the enemy and the synchronized stomp of their marching feet, and her heart began to beat in time with it. Merlin strode casually beside her, his face a stoic mask. Breck spared him a look, which he returned without a hint of emotion on his face.

"I shall go first." She said and then motioned for him and the Woads to halt as she began to trek up towards the top of the hill.

Her heart was pounding in anticipation as she neared the top, her mind racing over the possibilities of what might wait to greet her on the other side. When she finally ascended to the top of the hill Breck came to a halt and sucked in a deep breath, her eyes scanning over the scene before her. A line of Saxons was already within the confines of the smoky fields and she could just barely make out the sight of them amongst the burning hay, but it was the sea of warriors on the other side of the Hadrian's Wall that sent a violent jolt through her nerves. The vast army looked far more daunting in the daylight – there had to be thousands of blood-thirsty savages waiting to move into action on the other side and every last one of them wanted to kill the people that made up her and Arthur's army.

Breck took another steadying breath and turned her eyes downward. She was able to briefly glimpse the retreating backs of Arthur and the knights as they disappeared into the smoke, the six of them headed in the direction of the Saxons that marched towards them. A glance to her left confirmed that Guinevere and the rest of the Woads had taken up their position in the west tree line, and they were already preparing to release their first round of arrows.

This was it. There would be no turning back – Breck, her friends, and their allies were either going to walk off of this battlefield victorious or they were all going to fall victim to it.

Breck did not pray as she closed her eyes, trying to drown out the sound of the marching Saxons; she had said what she needed to say to God already. Instead she imagined the faces of her parents, thought of brave Dagonet, then paid quick homage to the countless victims that had fallen before this monster they faced. _I will avenge all of you. I swear it_, she promised fiercely, speaking directly to these fallen innocents. As though they had heard her, a strong wind picked up in the next moment and she tilted her head back, raising her arms out as the wind seemed to pass right through her body. It felt as though she had the power of every man, woman, and child that Cerdic and his beasts had slain coursing quickly through her very veins. But most of all, she felt the power of her father, Kenrick, her mother, Emer, and the sibling that she had never gotten the opportunity to meet – when she opened her eyes again, they narrowed at the Saxon soldiers predatorily and she unsheathed her sword in anticipation at the same time the first round of Woad arrows rained down upon them.

She watched as they shielded themselves quickly, but it was a futile attempt – the knights had snuck up on them under the cover of the smoke and merely bowled them over, then they disappeared back into the hazy smog that filled the air. As soon as the knights were cleared of the area, the Saxons were subjected to another round of Woad arrows. Cries filled the air and she tried hard to see what was happening when the ground trembled with galloping horses again. The sounds of clanging swords and shields reached her ears, but she only had brief glimpses here and there of the battle since the clouding concealed the attack from her intent eyes. When the six horsemen reappeared again and the smoke momentarily cleared thanks to a strong gust of wind, all of the Saxons lay dead on the battlefield.

A lone, bloodied Saxon was heading for the opening gates while Arthur and the men went galloping back to the base of the hill. Bors was the first one to spot her up at the very top and immediately raised his sword, a shout tearing from his lips. "RUS!" He cried, pumping his sword in her direction.

The other men quickly turned to look up at her and raised their swords to her. Breck smiled to herself and brought her fist up to her heart, bowing her head to them, before she raised her sword and let out a loud cry. Could Cerdic and Cynric see her up on the hill? Could they see that she was awaiting them and that she had all of the protection and power of her friends to back her up? Breck hoped they could – she wanted them to know that she was eagerly awaiting them.

"It has only just begun." Breck said as she lowered her weapon, her eyes tearing away from the men below her so she could glare out at the Saxon army.

"Yes, it has." Merlin's voice suddenly sounded. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him striding up, his staff grasped tightly within his boney fingers. The line of Woads she was meant to lead were trailing behind him and beginning to haul in their huge catapults. She returned Merlin's determined stare with one of her own and then turned her eyes away when the chanting on the other side of the Wall started up again. In the next moment, the ground began to quake violently beneath their feet as the massive army began to mobilize.

"Remember – we wait for the opportune moment." Breck reminded the soldiers around her, turning her back on the approaching Saxons for a moment. "Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none in return." Then she turned around the face the enemy again, watching as they neared the Wall.

The smoke was not nearly as concealing now and Breck tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, beginning to swing the blade around impatiently. She could hear the Woads preparing the catapults, could hear the _shing _of metal swords being unsheathed by the Woads that possessed them, while the natives themselves began to chant things in their strange language behind her. Breck fidgeted on her feet but did not take her eyes off the gate as she awaited the arrival of the army. When they finally began to spill in through the gate, she thought she might jump out of her skin due to her nerves and had to take a steadying breath. The army slowed down in confusion when they were presented with a seemingly empty battlefield and she took the moment to quickly scan the front lines of the army, searching for the face that she had not seen in years.

_Cerdic_.

There he was. Same long hair, same long beard, still as tall as a giant and as broad as an old tree. Beside him, a familiar bald head could be spotted amongst the crowd and her eyes narrowed even further, zeroing in on Cynric. Her vision went red at the sight of the evil father and son duo and it was all she could do not to go charging into battle right then a there, her knuckles turning white now because she gripped her sword so tightly. Breck hadn't realized how badly her hands had begun to shake in her anticipation until Merlin raised a calming hand in her direction.

"Steady." He said almost hypnotically.

Breck took a calming breath and closed her eyes, remembering back to all of her lessons with Tristan, Dagonet, and Bors. She felt as though she could hear Tristan's voice echoing in her head even now - _Channel your anger. _She opened her eyes again and saw that the whole of the army had invaded the Wall by now. Merlin was looking on with something akin to awe on his face and she gazed out at the vast army for a long moment before turning her eyes downward to gauge the reaction of the knights. All of them were frozen in place, their backs turned to her again as they watched the Saxon army begin to form their ranks.

"Breck." Merlin said, pointing to the Saxons.

Suddenly there was no need to use fire in order to divide their ranks – the Saxons were doing so willingly. The vast army had split into two groups and was going into two different directions now – the smaller band headed in the direction that Guinevere and the other Woads waited in while the rest of the enemy was headed directly for them and the knights. Cerdic lead the army that came for them but she could no longer spot Cynric amongst his officers. She frowned, searching for his bald head numerous times, before ascertaining that he must be amongst the men that headed for the Woads. With one last long stare at the scene before her, she glanced back at Merlin.

"Bring them forth." He commanded.

Breck nodded then turned to look at the Woads behind her, swinging her arm forward to signal for them to bring the catapults up. Half of the blue people set to getting the catapults in position while the other half came to stand directly behind her and Merlin. To her surprise (and approval), none of them looked frightened or wary as they gazed out at the enemy. The people only looked fierce and determined and ready for the battle that was just seconds away from beginning.

"On my signal, rain Hell upon them." Merlin instructed the Woads.

Breck turned her gaze down to Arthur and saw that he was looking up at her, raising his sword for her to see. Breck nodded and immediately commanded for the Woads to begin arming their catapults with the oil soaked and oil filled round canisters. At the same time, Guinevere and her arches had offered up the ends of their arrows so a lone, torch-wielding Woad could set fire to the tips of their arrows. Arthur then raised his sword to her to signal for the release of their arrows. The line of fire that flamed up and cut through the band of Saxons was satisfying to watch and even though the army had split up on its own accord, the effect was still one they had wished for – Saxon men screamed as fire engulfed them and the group of a hundred or so men was now cut off from the rest of the army completely. It did not take long for the sound of battle cries to reach her ears and Breck took a few steps forward in anticipation, watching as Guinevere and the Woads charged the Saxons they had trapped.

The same moment that the Woads charged, Arthur and the knights started to make their way back down to the battlefield. The vast number of Saxons led by Cerdic began to break into a run and when Breck saw it, she immediately turned a sharp eye on Merlin. He understood the meaning behind her look and yelled for the Woads to release the catapults. At once, fireball after fireball was being launched and sent into the approaching Saxons. The enemy was forced to come to a halt and hide behind their shields, attempting to seek cover from the spurts of fire that continued to burst up sporadically around them like volcanoes, and Arthur took their moment of distraction to lead his men in their charge, the six of them headed directly for the enemy with the intent to get the battle underway.

"Merlin – now." She urged.

"No. Hold." Merlin said, his eyes glued to the battlefield.

By this point, Breck was practically bouncing on her feet. Her sword was clutched tightly within her right hand while her left one reached back to take out her club, her heart pounding so hard within her ribs that she thought one might end up being broken before she could even begin fighting. She watched as the knights drew closer and closer, a good number of Woads managing to cross through the lines of fire so they could join them. But as Arthur raised his sword in preparation of attack and Merlin still had not given their own order to strike, Breck turned a glare on the thin, dirty man.

"Merlin! _Now_!" She screamed in her urgency, no longer able to contain herself. She understood that the man probably held off so they could be a fresh wave of attack on the Saxons, but the knights were only second away from engaging. Breck _had _to be down there and _now_.

Merlin finally threw his head back and cried out loudly, his tongue sticking out as he gave the signal for them to charge.

Breck was sprinting off in the blink of an eye, not caring whether the Woads behind her followed or not. The descent down the hill gave her more speed and all she could hear while she ran was her own blood pulsing in her ears and the pounding of her own feet on the Earth. The grueling conditioning Tristan had forced her through made it easy for her to catch up to the tail end of the attacking soldiers, quickly surpassing the men and women around her as she sprinted forward. The horsemen had already cleared out the line of shields that acted as a barrier between them and the rest of the Saxon army. Already there were skirmishes beginning to break out amongst the opposing forces just yards ahead of her and finally, with a loud battle cry, Breck jumped over the body of a trampled Saxon and went flying into the fray.

The first man she collided with seemed taken aback by her strength and barely managed to recover in time to block the blow she would have delivered to his head with her sword. He pushed her off and swung at her with his place, but she ducked to safety and delivered a backhanded blow to his face with her club as she came back to her full height. He went flying to his back, presumably dead, and she moved on without another thought. Slice here, stab there, charge, block, blow to the head with her spiked club. As her second victim fell, she turned in time to bring up her club, effectively halting the downward slice of the third attacking Saxon's sword before she ran him through her blade.

Breck attempted to pause for a moment, tried to search amongst the chaos for any sign of her friends or the two men she hunted, but was only presented with the sight of sparring for as far as the eyes could see. Where was Tristan? Where was Arthur? _Where was Cerdic_? Her attention was drawn again when a Saxon stepped into her view, wielding a nasty looking axe. "There you are you half-blood _bitch_." He grumbled, the Germanic language sounding rough and unforgiving on his lips.

"Here I am." She growled in returned, taking on a defensive stance before charging him.

The man jumped back and swung his axe down at her, making her drop to the ground and roll away from him. She jumped to her feet again but didn't take a moment to mind her surroundings when she did – she had accidently rolled right into the middle of a fray and quickly had to counteract a new attacker, meeting him strike for strike before she finally managed to slice one of his legs clean off. He fell to the ground and she wasted no time jamming her sword through his chest, ripping it out hastily when she heard a battle cry behind her and moving out of the way as a familiar large axe swung down onto the Saxon she'd just killed.

The original attacker that she'd had to escape began to pull his axe out of the corpse and Breck knew she only had a small window to work with. She ran for him, wanting to catch him off guard, but he was faster then she had given him credit for – he swung his axe and she was not able to jump out of the way fast enough, hissing when it sliced her arm between the plates of her armor. He cackled triumphantly and then swung his axe again. Breck dodged him this time, skirting around him in a quick circle, and managed to get a slice onto the back of his leg. He stumbled and she bopped around to the front of him again, whacking her club against his stomach with a sickening thud. His eyes bugged and she let out a cry as she swung her right arm wide and then aimed her next strike at his neck, cleaning slicing his head off.

Finally, she began to spot knights amongst the vast number of spars. A handful of feet to her left, Bors was helmetless and bleeding from his nose but was beating down Saxons left and right. She spotted Galahad scurrying quickly between each of his foes, delivering death after death with ease. She could not see Lancelot and had yet to spot Arthur. Tristan was also still nowhere in sight and the paranoid, nagging feeling that followed her had begun to cause her to panic. What if something had happened to him? What if he was lying dead somewhere on this crowded battlefield?

"Breck!" A familiar voice cried over the loud noise of the fight. "Behind you!"

It was Gawain that had shouted for her and Breck turned at the last moment, falling backwards as a blade came down hard on her chest. She landed on her back, gasping for air as the oxygen rushed from her lungs rapidly, but managed to roll to safety when her new attacker tried to run her through with his sword. Breck heard the thunderous gallops of Gawain's approaching horse just as the man turned to strike again and then watched as he was bowled over, the golden-haired knight disappearing back into the fray just as quickly as he had emerged. She got to her feet again, gasping for air, and then fended off two more attacks before the feeling of rolling heat waves registered against her back. Somehow, her fighting had taken her closer to the wall of fire that separated the two battles taking place.

Breck turned to face the line of flames and her heart was immediately in her throat when she spotted Cynric just on the other side, Woad after Woad meeting their deaths as they came at him. She knew that if there was ever a prime moment to take on Cynric, this would be it. So Breck braced herself, closed her eyes, and sprinted towards the fire before she went leaping through the flames. Immediately she could feel burns on her skin and smell the putrid scent of burnt hair, but did not let it faze her as she landed on her feet easily and turned to face the opponent she hunted. Cynric's back was currently facing her as he killed another opponent but when he turned around to survey his surroundings, his eyes almost immediately landed on her.

"Breck, Breck, Breck." He said, a slow, malicious grin making its way onto his face as he approached her. "I have yearned for this moment for many, many years."

Breck didn't reward him with a response; she merely watched him unblinkingly as he came to a halt some ten feet away. They stared one another down for a long moment, all of the years of mutual hatred bubbling up within them in that stretch of silence, until they moved to attack at the same time. Cynric lashed out quickly with his sword and she switched to defensive mode, fending off his blows as they danced around one another. She found that he fought much like Dagonet had, using his strength to his advantage and being forward with his brash attacks. There was only one difference - Dagonet had been concentrated and precise with his movements while Cynric was letting his confidence get the better of him. His movements were drawn out and dramatic, more for effect then intent, and easy for her to read. Breck dodged him when he tried to charge her with his shield and then turned in time to slash a wide gash across his back.

Cynric stumbled and turned to face her, a grimace on his face. She smirked, twirling her sword in her right hand almost mockingly, before charging him. Now it was his turn to be on the defense – he scrambled to block both the strikes from her sword and her club, looking almost comical in his flailing attempt to fend her off. Breck landed a hard hit of her club to the shoulder she herself had shot an arrow into the previous day when Cynric hesitated for too long, then watched in satisfaction as he cried out and his sword fell out of his hand. While he tried to recover, Breck slashed him on his leg, making him cry out again, and then circled around him to cleanly stab him in his left shoulder. Now Cynric dropped his shield and stumbled on his injured leg, his breathing becoming labored as he tried to avoid her.

Breck wanted to draw this fight out, wanted to make this man suffer in the worst way possible, but knew she could not linger here much longer. Cerdic was still on the battlefield somewhere and she had no idea where Tristan was. The time had come to end this fight, avenge Dagonet, and then continue on with her business.

Cynric went scrambling for his sword again when she moved to attack, but Breck beat him to it. As he leaned over to grapple for his weapon she swung her club up hard, connecting with his face before he could move out of the way. The sound of the club making contact with its target was a sickening, crunching _thud _that sent warm blood splattering onto her hands and legs. Cynric went flying to his back and immediately began coughing of blood, his face a bloody mess and barely recognizable from the sharp spikes adorning her weapon. She made her way over with determine steps, coming to a halt once she was standing over him, and dropped her club so she could grasp him by his cloak yank his face up to hers.

"This is for Dagonet." She growled in his face before releasing him, letting him flop onto his back like a fish.

Then she grabbed the hilt of her sword with both hands and drove her blade into the center of his chest, delivering the death blow. His eyes bugged, blood flowed freely out of his mouth, and he stared at her in stunned disbelief until the light finally faded from his eyes. One his lifeless gaze was staring unblinking up at the smoke filled sky, Breck yanked her sword out of his chest. The nearby Saxons that were not engaged in a skirmish immediately fled in the other direction when her gaze lifted to them and she shook her head at their cowardice before leaning down to scoop up her club. A weight had been lifted now that Cynric was finished but there was still much more to do, so Breck braced herself again and went leaping back across the wall of fire with the intention of locating her friends and Cerdic.

When she cleared the fire, she went ramming into the back Lancelot. He whipped around in surprise, his blade poised to strike, but halted when he recognized that it was only her. It was a relief to see him but her thoughts had turned back to the Sarmatians scout. "Where is Tristan?" She asked immediately, her eyes darting around before she noticed their upcoming attacker. "Move!" She said pushing Lancelot out of the way roughly. She had to duck to avoid the blade that swung at her face but was able to slice at the man's shins. He fell to his knees in pain and Breck sliced off his head a second later.

"You do not have to be so pushy!" Lancelot said as he recovered from her shove, quirking a sculpted brow at her.

"Tell me where Tristan is!" She demanded.

"I do not know!" He said, holding up his hands (which wielded two swords) in defense.

Breck left him with that and threw herself back into the fray, her eyes darting around quickly for any sight of the Sarmatian in question. Something wasn't right and she knew it. Tristan had not wanted to be separated from her in the first place and they had agreed to meet up on the battlefield so they could fight together; he should have found her by now. She stepped in to save a Woad from getting his head chopped off before turning to kill the next Saxon that came for her. Then her eyes darted around wildly again, surveying the scene quickly.

_Where – was – Tristan? _

A familiar face came into view and she breathed a little easier when she finally located Arthur – not only was she glad to see that he was still perfectly fine, but she also knew that wherever Arthur was, Tristan could not be too far away. Arthur had just sliced cleanly through his opponent's stomach with his sword when she began to make her way to him, mindlessly slaying another attacker while en route. "Arthur!" She hollered over the noise once she was close enough.

He turned quickly and spotted her amongst the chaos. "Breck!" Arthur responded, looking relieved to see that she was still alive. "Thank God." He said before his eyes widened. "Watch it!" He warned, grabbing her around the wrist and yanking her out of the way before taking out the Saxon that had come running after her.

"I cannot find Tristan!" Breck said once Arthur had turned his attention back to her.

"He was not far from my side." Arthur said, his brows furrowing as he glanced around. "He should be nearby."

She heaved, her eyes searching frantically amongst the crowd of Saxons, until she noticed that she and Arthur had drawn a fair bit of attention – a handful of soldiers hesitated only a second before charging as a group in their direction. Breck and Arthur shared a look before running to meet them head on, not even having to say the words to know that they would take out this gang together. Breck brought her club up hard underneath the chin of one of the men, not even blinking when blood spurted from his mouth and onto her face. Once she had yanked her weapon free from his jaw she felt Arthur spin her in another direction and the new attacker she was faced with received her blade in his side, his eyes bulging as he fell to his knees. She was sliced from behind, a knife embedding itself into her shoulder, and she let out a cry out pain for a moment before she was whipped around by Arthur again. He sliced the Saxons arm off first and then his head. Breck breathed heavily for a moment, fighting through the pain of her injury, and then finished her next opponent.

"Are you hurt?" Arthur asked urgently. The blood on his face and armor painted a menacing picture but was completely contradicting to the concern that currently resided within his green eyes as he came to study her wound.

"I am fine!"

That was when she remembered – Tristan wanted Cerdic dead as badly as she did. If Tristan was not with her, then he had to be looking for the Saxon. It was the only explanation Breck could think of that she wanted to believe could actually be true.

"Arthur, where is Cerdic?" She asked, rounding on her friend.

"No, Breck, not without – "

"_Where is he_?" She screeched at him.

Arthur set his jaw and then pointed ahead of them. It was hard to make out the figure amongst the dueling, but she finally saw the tall, blonde Saxon off in the distance. He appeared to be in the middle of a duel and her eyes narrowed dangerously. Breck was off and making her way towards him before Arthur could stop her. The Roman started to follow but stopped short when he spotted Lancelot in the midst of fending off more Saxons then it appeared he could handle. Arthur seemed torn about where he should go and Breck felt his eyes on her back as another Saxon approached her. Breck delivered another hard, backhanded blow of her club to the man's temple and then turned to her friend, nodding in the direction of Lancelot.

"Go!" She shouted.

Arthur was disappearing into the masses almost immediately, leaving her very alone with hundreds of Saxons and Woads alike separating her from Cerdic. She tightened her grip on her weapons, gritted her teeth, and then began to cut and hack her way through the dense grouping of fighters.

"You blood traitor!" A Saxon called upon spotting her, stopping her dead in her tracks as she turned to face her next assailant.

Breck braced herself against his assault and scrambled backwards, finding her footing again to push back against him. He was definitely stronger then her and blocked her arm effortlessly when she tried to bring her club down on him. The next thing she knew, his elbow was coming down hard onto her face and she clutched her mouth for a moment, stumbling backward as she tasted blood on her tongue. He merely grinned and then charged again. She quickly began countering his blocks and was finally able to get the upper hand when she surprised him with a punch from the hand still clutching her club. He faltered, clutching his nose, and she cried out loudly as she leapt at him. Her sword slid cleanly into his chest and the man could only stare at her in surprise as the life quickly left his eyes.

When he fell, sliding off of her sword, the sight that awaited her made her heart plummet into her stomach.

She had finally spotted Tristan. And the Sarmatians, who was so skilled in the ways of war and whom she thought could never be outmatched, was scrambling on the ground at Cerdic's feet some fifteen yards away. One of his hands was clutching his head and though the other held his sword out in front of him defensively, he was practically lying flat on his face and appeared to be having some trouble getting to his feet. Her blood ran cold, her vision turned red, and any hints of pain or fatigue seemed to vanish from her body as she took off sprinting in their direction. Tristan had just managed to pull himself to his feet with a cry that even she could hear when two Saxons jumped into her path.

Breck growled in frustration, her face probably so contorted with rage and blood and grime that she could hardly be recognizable by this point. Her opponents charged at the same time and she fended off the first sword, only to earn herself a gash on her leg from the second. She forced herself to ignore the pain and immediately threw her elbow into the second Saxon's nose, causing him to stagger backwards. Now that he had backed off, Breck returned her attention to the other and wasted no time – she threw her entire weight and sent them both tumbling to the ground. She had just sliced his throat when the second attacker yanked her up by her hair, making her cry out for a moment. Breck could not shake him off or turn to face him thanks to the grip her had on her blood-soaked curls, so she finally swung hard at his knee with her club. He released her with a howl and Breck scurried away from him, rounding on the warrior as he recovered (but struggled to do so) and readied his weapon again, her own hands tightening their grip on hers before she attacked.

Every swing of her sword, he matched. Every strike of his, she blocked. They exchanged blow for blow for far too long a time and Breck was becoming increasingly frustrated. Tristan was in trouble – she did _not _have time for this unimportant barbarian.

Over the Saxon's shoulder she could see Azia running chaotically through the crowd of fighters, either attempting to find a way out or attempting to find her master. A quick idea formed in Breck's head and she whistled loudly, catching the horse's attention. As Azia began to make her way towards the familiar redhead, Breck charged the Saxon again, making sure to keep him between her and Azia. Once the mare was closing in and galloping at an incredible rate, Breck swung at the Saxon with a wide arc of her sword. It made him jump back to avoid getting his face split in half, which then promptly ended up getting him knocked to the ground and trampled over by Azia. Breck paid him no attention after that, sheathing her club and then swinging herself up onto Azia's back instead before turning the horse in the direction of Tristan and Cerdic.

In the time it had taken to finish the Saxons, Tristan's condition had gone from bad to worse. The Saxon clearly had the upper hand in their fight and from where she was, it looked as though Cerdic might have managed to get a dagger underneath Tristan's armor and into his chest. She kicked her heels into Azia's flanks to send her into a gallop, her eyes set into hard determination, and could only watch on as Tristan disentangled himself from his opponent and began to crawl away from him. It was clear he was wounded, and badly, and she knew that if she didn't intervene that Tristan was going to be killed by the very same man that had taken everything else away from her. She ignored the cries of the people around her as she trampled through the skirmishes, did not feel the slices of swords on her legs when she rode past – all Breck was concerned about was getting to Tristan before something terrible happened.

She was close, so close. They couldn't be more then twenty feet from her now. Cerdic had his back to her as he slowly trailed after Tristan, picking up the long curved sword that belonged to her man and wielding it as he began to close in on the Sarmatian scout. Breck felt panic rise up in her so violently that she dug her heels even harder into Azia's flanks again, making the mare let out a noise of protest as she hurried her pace even more.

Fifteen feet, ten feet.

Cerdic pulled Tristan up by his hair and paused for a moment when he received a dagger to his leg. But then he merely restrained Tristan with a firm grip on his wrist and sliced him cleanly across the arm with his own weapon.

Five feet to go. _So close!_

Breck let out a loud cry of protest and anger as Cerdic stabbed Tristan in the side. This finally drew his attention to her, and Cerdic turned just in the knick of time to see her approaching. His eyes widened when he saw that he was about to be trampled and he quickly released Tristan, dropping the sword in his hand and managing to jump out of the way before Breck flattened him.

Breck pulled on Azia's reigns to bring her to a sharp halt and quickly jumped off her back, reaching for her club again and then brandishing both weapons as Cerdic pulled himself to his feet. Tristan was lying motionless on the ground with both his and Cerdic's swords next to him. It was hard to know if he was still alive or not but Breck didn't have time to check, turning her eyes to the Saxon and keeping a firm eye on him as she took her place between him and Tristan. The now weaponless Saxon regarded her for a moment before grinning cruelly and holding out his hands as though presenting himself, looking positively delighted to see her.

"Breck – we meet again at last."

Breck heaved for air, trying to keep her emotions in check now that she was finally standing before this monster, and gazed at him steadily. "Cerdic. I see time has not changed much." She responded in the Germanic language, fidgeting on her feet in anticipation. She wanted so badly to turn and see if Tristan was still alive but kept her eyes on the man before her, unwilling to turn her back on him for even a moment. "Still murdering innocents?"

"Still seeking revenge for your traitorous father and whore mother?"

There were only two things that kept her from lunging at him as her face darkened at his words – one, he had no weapon and she _was _going to fight him, and two, Tristan had let out a groan of pain behind her that captured both of their attentions. She froze, glancing down at him so quickly that she barely was able to see him beginning to move again but felt some sense of relief flow through her veins at the knowledge that he was still alive. Cerdic's eyes also flickered to Tristan for a moment and Breck immediately focused on him again, hissing at him in warning. A smirk appeared on his lips almost instantly as he put the pieces together in his head.

"I thought the trinket around his neck seemed familiar." He stated, understanding why she'd come to Tristan's defense. "This man is yours." Cerdic continued.

"And you will not touch him again." Breck promised him angrily. "Just as no innocent soul shall ever perish at your blade again after this day."

"Breck…" Sounded the weak voice of Tristan from behind her.

The lover within her wanted to turn and check and Tristan but the warrior that dominated her being refused to turn her back on the Saxon she was about to fight, intent on the man before her. They were silent as they sized one another up and Breck finally dug her toe underneath the man's sword before flinging it over for him to pick up. Cerdic looked down at his weapon in surprise, obviously having believed she wouldn't give it to him, and then leaned down slowly to pick it up. His expression had gone from surprised to intent in a second as he straightened up again, swishing his sword threateningly.

"The time has come to pay for my crimes, then?" He asked mockingly. She didn't reward him with a response, merely took a defensive stance. "You are a stupid girl." The Saxon spat at her nastily. "And you will die, just as everyone you love has," his eyes dropped down to Tristan, "or will shortly."

All of the anger and sorrow and years of hatred welled up inside of her with those words and Breck let out a cry of anger as she lunged forward, surprising him with her quickness. He side stepped her and made to swing, but she ducked out of the way and managed to get a slice of her blade on his thigh. He looked shocked that she had actually gotten a cut on him and then promptly looked angered, swinging his cold gaze on her as she waited for his move. Then he charged her.

When he connected with her, Breck had to stumble backward because of the force of him. He was far stronger then anyone she'd ever fought and his strikes were unrelenting – she had to move fast to block his blows and every clanging connection of their swords sent jolting shocks down her arms. She tried to twist away from him when he attempted to bring his dagger down on her but he anticipated the move and sliced her leg with his sword. Breck grimaced and jumped back away from him, gritting her teeth against the pain. He smiled almost joyfully and Breck let out a growl, attacking him again with renewed fury.

Cerdic blocked each of her blows as she attacked, countering some of her strikes with moves of his own, and then used the hilt of his dagger to strike her hard in the face when she least expected it. Breck saw white for a moment and stumbled backward, tripping over a dead body (that she hoped and prayed was _not _Tristan) and then landed hard on her back. Her nose was definitely broken now and her vision blurred for a moment as she tried to recover from her shock. A shadow crossed over her and she snapped back to reality when she saw Cerdic rearing up to deliver a devastating blow, managing to bring her club up at the last moment to stop him from slicing her face open. He was obviously annoyed that she had managed to stop him and when he lifted his sword to strike again, Breck took advantage of his vulnerability and kicked his knee _hard_.

Cerdic nearly went falling to the ground, one of his hands dropping to his knee as he tried to keep himself upright. The glare he swung on her would have sent anyone else fleeing out of fear but Breck quickly hoisted herself up, fighting against all of the throbbing pains resonating throughout her body, and readied her weapons with determination. He was limping now, but managed to pull himself to his full height. As soon as his sword was at the ready, Breck attacked again.

Slice, jab, block, dodge, slash – back and forth they went with neither managing to gain the upper hand for too long of a time. Her thoughts had cleared of everything but the need and want to kill the man in front of her and she cried out again as she swung her club up towards his head. He dodged it and then used her close proximity to grasp her by the hair, yanking her closer to him as he attempted to restrain her flailing arms.

"Do you want to know how your father died? How he _begged _for his life like a coward?" Cerdic growled.

She winced against the vice grip in her hair and the stench of his breath, trying to free herself from him. There was not much room to maneuver since he had such a grip on her, so Breck resorted to the only thing she could do - she reared her club back as far as his grasp would allow and struck him hard in the side. Breck immensely enjoyed the painful howl that emitted from his lips as the rows of metal spike sunk into his skin. He released her a second later and she stumbled backward away from him, yanking the spikes of her club out of his side none-too-gently in the process.

"Do wish to know how quickly I was able to kill your son?" Breck countered once she'd caught her breath, both of them limping with their injuries as they circled each other. Cerdic as he pressed a hand to his injured side and narrowed his eyes at her. "Cynric never had a hope of prevailing against me."

The expression on his face was priceless– the mixture of shock and disbelief made her feel wildly triumphant. Shortly enough, though, undiluted rage took its place on his cold features and he released a barbaric battle cry before coming after her. Breck set her jaw and met his strikes blow for blow, a few slices getting through on both of their parts; one of her jabs earned him a stab to his shoulder, one of his slices opened up a cut on the side of her neck. Distantly she thought she could hear someone calling her name but she paid them no attention, focusing only on Cerdic. He made to try and trample her with his own massive form and Breck dodged underneath him deftly. Then she whipped around to take advantage of the fact that his back was to her and lunged after him. Her intent was to deliver a hard blow to his head with her club but just as she was swinging her arm high into the air, she was forced to stop short.

Pain like she had never known flared up in her stomach and she froze, not completely sure what had happened. Cerdic still had his back to her but he had not been as defenseless as she had perceived – rather then trying to turn in time to block her strike, he had reversed his sword and trapped it between his arm and his side with the blade towards her. When Breck had run up behind him, her focus only on bludgeoning the man to death, he had thrust the sword back at her hard and successfully embedded it into the right side of her stomach. She glanced down and her eyes widened in shock, blood beginning to flow freely from the wound as he yanked his sword free of her and sent her sprawling to the ground.

"Breck! _No!_"

There was so much pain.

It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, and Breck stared up at the smoke filled sky unseeingly, completely in shock as she dropped her weapons to press her hands against the deathly wound Cerdic had given her. She blinked against the pain of the pressure, her eyes filling with tears immediately, and squeezed her eyes shut. The sounds of the battle around her faded out and she grimaced in pain, letting out a cry when she attempted to move. Blood was quickly draining from her body and already she was beginning to become lightheaded. When she opened her eyes again the world was tilting dangerously around her and things were beginning to go out of focus a bit.

Breck knew it then - she was going to die.

Immediately she thought of many things at once – memories from her years chasing the Saxons filled her mind before she suddenly vividly remembered the first time she had ever killed someone. Breck recalled the first time she had picked up a bow and arrow, could remember the songs her mother used to sing in order to get her to bed, and then was presented with all sorts of memories of Arthur. Breck whimpered in pain, her mind rapidly progressing through her reminiscences until her befuddled brain turned to Tristan.

_Tristan! _

Her befuddled brain began to clear itself and the world around her came back into sharp focus. Was Tristan still alive? Breck managed to pull herself together the best that she could and fought with every ounce of determination within her to roll over onto her stomach. She let out a sharp cry of pain when she did so but looked around her regardless, trying to spot Tristan amongst the bodies littering the battlefield as she heaved roughly for air. When Breck finally was able to pick out the tousled, messy hair that belonged to the man she loved amongst the littering of bodies, she let out a sob to see that he lay motionless again on the blood-soaked earth.

"No…" She found herself saying, a hand reaching in his direction despite the distance that separated him. "Please…no…" Breck dropped her face to the ground below her and sobbed for a moment, her hand falling uselessly back to the ground. Tristan couldn't be dead – he just _couldn't. _

The clanging of swords nearby started to draw her attention and Breck slowly lifted her head to see who was near her. It took a long moment to work through the haze that was filling her mind again but after a few moments she realized that Arthur had come to her defense and was fighting Cerdic only a few feet away. Breck immediately felt the hottest flames of hatred engulfing her as her eyes locked on the Saxon she loathed with every fiber of her being. Cerdic had killed her father, her mother, and for all she knew, Tristan as well. And she was not going to lie here on this God forsaken battlefield and accept her fate so readily – if she still had air in her lungs, she was going to make him pay.

Breck slowly but surely managed to get herself to her feet, stumbling because the loss of blood had weakened her so greatly. The redhead woman had to pause when \ white hot pain erupted within the wound to her stomach due to this movement and took steadying breaths to fight through the pain. Once she had pulled herself together, she plucked up her father's sword. Then, as her face set into determination, Breck went stumbling after Cerdic and Arthur. Even in her state she could see that both men looked tired and worn and though their swords continued to clang together, they were both moving much more slowly then when the battle had begun. It appeared the fight was close to coming to an end but it was hard to say who would be the one to prevail. Breck breathed heavily through her nose, a hand pressed over her bleeding stomach as she slowly moved along, but she was running purely off of adrenaline and hatred now.

If she was dying, then she was damn well going to take Cerdic with her.

Her eyes widened when Arthur was suddenly sent falling to his knees and the excruciating pain within her stomach was momentarily forgotten. The Roman had not made a move to get to his feet yet and though she was unable to discern how bad his injuries may be, she knew if she did not stop the advance of Cerdic then Arthur was going to be killed before her very eyes. Breck pressed forward with the last ounces of life that she had, readying her sword as Cerdic towered over Arthur. He was _not _going to claim Arthur's life on this day – she was not going to let him. Once she was behind the Saxon, Breck gritted her teeth and prepared to strike.

"Cerdic." She growled to catch his attention. He turned in surprise but then looked at her in complete shock when she thrust her arm forward with a loud cry and buried her sword deep into his stomach. His eyes bugged, his mouth fell open, and then he sagged heavily onto her shoulder as he stared at her with wide disbelieving eyes. "Enjoy hell." Breck growled in his ear before twisting the blade that was buried in his body and thrusting it even deeper within him.

There was a brief moment when the Saxon raised his sword and it appeared Cerdic was going to use his last moments to finish her off, but Arthur had gotten to his feet and pulled Cerdic away from her. The Saxon went sliding off of her blade only to be run through with Arthur's, then fell lifeless to the ground at their feet. The world around her started to go hazy and Breck wobbled unsteadily on her feet, her eyes turning away from the sight of Cerdic's body to gaze into Arthur's worried, green orbs.

"Arthur…" She managed to say just before she collapsed.

Arthur dropped his sword and rushed forward, catching her in his arms before she could go tumbling to the ground. "Breck, no." He said, his eyes wide as he gently lowered her to the ground. "Stay with me. _Breck_! You cannot die! _No_!" He pleaded with her.

His words sounded distorted and echoed within her ears as she gazed at him. When tears began to slide down his cheeks, she numbly raised a hand towards him, the feeling of his hand encircling hers barely registering with her senses. The energy had left her body completely and suddenly she was so tired that she could hardly focus on anything at all. "So…so…" She tried to manage out the words, grimacing in pain. "Proud." She finally said deliriously. Then her jumbled mind turned to Tristan. "Tris…Tristan." She managed out urgently. "Does he…live? Does…he…"

Then, as Arthur began to yell out pleading words and urgently shake her to try and keep her conscious, the world around her went dark and fell deathly silent.

* * *

**A/N: *quickly runs away and ducks for cover***


	37. Chapter 36

**I would like to take this moment to apologize for the typos and numerous repetitions in the last chapter! I went back and read it and was pretty mad at myself when I saw how much I had messed up – I just got so excited that even when I edited it I still missed it. I'll go back and fix it at some point. Hope it didn't take away from the story!**

**Oh, and I don't usually suggest songs to listen to while reading but the first half of this story was written while listening to "Light" by Hans Zimmer. Give it a whirl while you read. **

**As usual, I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

For a moment, everything was incredibly bright. So bright that Breck could hardly keep her eyes open against the light that assaulted her eyes. But when the sights around her began to return to normal opacity again and she was finally able to survey her surroundings, her breath caught in her throat. All before her sat rolling hills, green and vibrant, for as far as the eye could see. One half of the sky above was the bluest she had ever seen and broken up here and there with the fluffiest, whitest clouds imaginable – the other half faded into the most exquisite twilight her eyes had ever witnessed, streaked with glorious pinks and purples and blues and adorned with a vastly large moon. A pleasant wind snaked through her hair and she closed her eyes to inhale the sweet scent that lingered on it. Somewhere off in the distance she could hear the sound of crashing waves within an ocean.

_Where was she?_

Breck opened her eyes again and looked around, feeling confused but not frightened. This place, whatever it was, had a soothing feel to it. She knew without having to be told that no harm awaited her here. That wherever she was at the moment, she was safe.

"Breck…" A voice floated towards.

The call was soft, faint, just a whisper on the breeze and she glanced around her for the source. Behind her stretched rolling plains of plush greenery and everywhere else sat rolling hills, all vacant and undisturbed. When she turned forward again, she stood confused for a moment – a lone hut was tucked away into the hillside just up ahead but it had not previously been there. When had this home appeared? How was it possible that the land was empty one moment and then housing this small home the next?

"Breck…"

The voice that reached her ears was firmer now, easier to hear, and her heart almost stopped at the recognition she felt within her. Breck _knew_ that voice. It had been years since she had heard it last but it was not one that she would have ever forgotten – the deep, booming bass tones belonged to her father Kenrick. But where was he? And how could she hear him now? Had he somehow ended up in this magical place as well?

Her feet began to move on their own accord, carrying her in the direction of the hut that sat before her. It could have taken minutes or taken hours to reach it, she wasn't very sure because there didn't seem to be a sense of time in this place, but as she neared it Breck could not help but feel at peace and at home, as though she belonged here. Small puffs of smoke could be seen rising from the lone chimney and bright wild flowers decorated the lawn all around as she approached, a cozy aura surrounding the quaint home. The outside of the hut was still and silent but through the small windows her eyes spied a fire and a completely furnished home, signaling that somebody did indeed live here. Breck surveyed the home through the windows for one more moment and then reached to open the door once she was close enough. She had just grasped the doorknob when a voice sounded behind her.

"Turn around."

Her heart almost stopped, her mouth went dry, and Breck dropped her hand from the knob. With slow, timed movements, she turned to face who had spoken and then immediately felt an indescribable feeling course through her entire body – before her stood Kenrick, her father, and Emer, her mother. They looked healthy and alive and exactly as she remembered then to look when she had been a child and they had still lived as a happy family. Kenrick was still as broad and sturdy as a tree and towered over her while her mother was still as beautiful as Breck's memories recalled. Both wore similar expressions of longing, love, and pride on their faces as they watched her closely.

It took a moment to work through the lump in her throat. "Mother…father…" She said slowly taking a step towards them. Breck reached a hand out to her mother, whom she had not seen since she was a small child, and thought her knees might give out beneath her when Emer's warm hand wrapped around her own. Breck stared at their joined hands for a moment before finally turning her eyes up to meet the same blue orbs she herself had. "Is this real?" Breck finally asked shakily.

They did not answer, only continued to gaze at her almost reverently. Breck glanced over at her father and it seemed almost like he was trying to memorize the way she looked as she stood before him – she reached her free hand to him and took another steadying breath when he clasped hers tightly between two of his own. An earnest look appeared in his eyes and he smiled almost sadly down at her. "We are _so proud _of you." He finally said.

_Proud_?

His words suddenly vividly reminded her of why she had been brought to this haven in the first place – the Battle of Badon Hill came rushing back to her. The echoing clang off sword resounded in her ears, the smell of fire and blood and smoke reclaimed her sense of smell, and Breck was quickly reminded of the fatal wound Cerdic had delivered her. She glanced down and saw that she was no longer in her armor but rather a simple white dress, and though she knew her fatal injury should be bleeding and painful, she neither felt nor saw anything amiss with her person. A squeeze to her hand brought her attention back to her parents and she gulped, looking at them a bit unsurely.

"You fought _so_ bravely." Emer said. "You are truly your father's daughter."

"So I am dead?" Breck asked slowly to confirm her suspicions.

Emer and Kenrick shared a look. "No." Kenrick responded slowly, shaking his head when he looked back to her. This news surprised Breck. How could she not be dead after suffering such a devastating blow? "It is not yet your time."

"This is not heaven then?" Breck asked, looking around again at her beautiful surroundings. Surely this place had to be – it was so peaceful and serene. She thought she heard movement within the hut behind her and stared at the door for a long moment before facing her parents again when her mother spoke.

"Someday, it may be." Emer said with a small smile. "But there is still much that awaits you in life, my little flame." The sound of the nickname on her mother's lips made Breck want to cry, both from sadness and happiness. "You need only worry about living the life you have always dreamt of now. A life of love and happiness and one that is not filled with war or hatred any longer. You have earned it, my darling."

Love and happiness? Was such a thing even possible? Breck's mind had been focused so heavily on what was transpiring right now that she had nearly forgotten about the friends she had fought alongside – did they live? Had any fallen on the battlefield? She remembered the anguish in Arthur's eyes as he held her, this despair that had radiated off of him when he believed her to be dying and guilt coursed through her at the pain she had unwillingly caused him. And then, as though being socked in the gut, she was sharply presented with the image of Tristan. Her handsome Sarmatian, the man she loved and had promised herself to, had been dying on the battlefield that last that she had seen him. For a moment her eyes wildly searched around her, expecting him to be nearby somewhere, and she felt an indescribable feeling of grief and longing to see that he was not present.

"He is not here." Emer said gently, gaining Breck's attention again.

"Your man is lost, daughter." Kenrick continued. "You must go back to him and show him the way – only you shall be able to bring him back."

Breck was torn. She wanted to go to Tristan, wanted to see him and hold him and kiss him, but she wanted to stay with her parents at the same time. Her entire life had been dedicated to the two people that stood before her and now, when she was reunited with them at last, she could not stay. She tightened her grip on their hands, her eyes flicking between the both of them numerous times as she tried to find the willpower to release her grip on them and her parents looked on sadly, obviously knowing that this moment was not easy for her. Kenrick finally very gently pulled his hand from her tight clutch and then stepped in close, raising a hand to rest it on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"My beautiful Breck – it pains me to see you leave, but you must go. When the time comes, we shall await your arrival here if you so choose it. I swear to you we will." He said sincerely before leaning in to kiss her forehead. She closed her eyes and accepted the gesture.

"You must return now and go to Tristan." Emer continued when Kenrick stepped back. Her mother smiled and her eyes scanned over Breck's features. "You have grown to be so beautiful and such an incredible woman, dear daughter. Know that I have never been more proud of you then I am in this moment."

Breck nodded and took a deep breath, gazing at her parents one more time before finally releasing Emer's hand and taking a step back away from them. Leaving her parents behind in this beautiful heaven was not an easy feat but if Tristan needed her, then she would be there to help him in whatever way was required. "I wish you could have met him." She said sadly.

Emer smiled and nodded. "He is a good man – you have chosen well." Kenrick said in agreement with his wife's gesture.

Breck sighed and smiled at them gently. "I love you both." She said sincerely. "All I have done has been for you."

"We know." Emer responded. "And we love you in return – more then you shall ever understand."

Then he and Emer both stepped to the side and revealed to her a long, winding trail that had not previously been there. Breck knew in an instant that this was the very road that would take her back to reality and she eyed it for a long moment before finally stepping forward, smiling sadly at her parents as she went past them. Breck paused a handful of feet away and turned to look at them over her shoulder, trying to memorize how they looked one last time as her parents stood watching her leave; Kenrick, with his wild hair, long scar, and broadly muscled form – Emer with her long dark hair, soft features, and kind smile. They stood with their arms wrapped around one another and it was impossible to not feel the love that radiated off of them.

"I will miss you."

"As will we." Emer said. "Go – before it is too late."

Breck nodded, studied them a second longer, and finally turned to head down the road without another backwards glance.

* * *

The chirping of crickets and the crackling of fire was the first thing that she heard as she began to come out of her haze. Every single part of her body was sore beyond comprehension and she breathed in slowly through her nose, taking a steadying breath to fight her way through the throbbing pain of her healing wounds. Finally, with a great deal of effort, Breck managed to slowly drag her eyes open. Her entire body, her eyelids included, felt as heavy as lead and she did not even attempt to move even a finger just yet. Instead she lay perfectly still and stared up at the mossy roof above her, not completely sure that she knew where she was. Beyond the gaps in the moss she could see the tops of towering trees and specs of stars and moonlight here and there – wherever she was, she was outside.

Steady breathing registered in her ears and Breck finally managed to turn her head to see who was nearby, feeling relieved but unable to express it when she saw that Arthur was sitting propped up against a tree not two feet from her. He was no longer in his armor, he seemed to have cleaned himself up, and his eyes were closed as he sat sleeping by her side, but there was a troubled expression etched onto his handsome features. The man kept fidgeting and the frown on his lips made premature age lines stretch across his face – though he was resting it was clear it was not coming to him very easily.

She tried to say his name but her lips and throat were so dry that the sound she made was weak, undecipherable, and fell short of reaching her friend's ears. She could never remember a time when she had been this tired, this weak, or this dehydrated and it only reiterated that her wounds had sent her directly to death's doorstep. The fact that she had survived was a miracle and she knew it very well. Arthur shifted again in his sleep and Breck winced as she finally started to lift her arm, slowly reaching over to her friend and then heavily dropping her hand onto his leg when she could no longer support the weight of it.

Arthur jumped instantly at the contact and his eyes popped open, blinking around in confusion for a moment as he tried to decipher just what had pulled him so abruptly from his rest. He finally looked down to the hand that was on his leg and he seemed confused for a moment before he swung wide, stunned eyes up to finally meet her gaze. For a long moment they stared at one another, Breck trying to find the power to communicate with him while Arthur stared at her in disbelief, then she finally managed to crack the tiniest of smiles.

"Arthur…" She finally wheezed out.

Arthur had tears running down his cheeks in seconds and was covering the short distance that separated them in the blink of an eye, his hands grasping hers tightly within his own as he stared down at her with obvious relief. "Breck! My God, thank you!" He said through his happy tears. "You…you live. We did not know – we thought – your injuries were so severe –" He was babbling almost incoherently and she tried to keep up with his words, wincing a bit at the grip he had on her hands. "Forgive me." He said when he noticed this, slackening his hold. He took a few breaths to collect himself and then grinned down at her, not bothering to hide his tears of joy. "I have never been happier then I am in this moment."

Breck smiled again, though it probably looked more like a grimace, and finally managed out another word. "Water."

Arthur released one of her hands and reached for a canister to quickly bring it up to her lips. He let go of her other hand so he could support her head and help her drink, watching her carefully and tending to her with the gentleness one might use to handle a precious trinket. Breck could have sang when she felt the instant relief that the water had on her throat and drank greedily, trying to quench the parching thirst that consumed her. After a few moments Arthur finally pulled the canister from her lips and set her head back down slowly, discarding the water carelessly to the side as she let out a sigh of relief.

"How do you feel?" He asked, reaching for her hand again as he settled more comfortably at her side. There was a concerned frown on his face now but the happiness in his eyes had not dimmed even in the slightest.

"Terrible." She responded honestly. It was a bit easier to speak now that she had moistened her throat but her voice was scratchy with disuse and sounded rough to the ear. "How…how long…"

"You have been unconscious for almost three days." Arthur answered quickly so she would not try to force any more words out.

"Tristan." She managed out next.

Arthur looked at her in silence for a moment and then raised his eyes, looking over to her right with a grim expression. Breck slowly turned her head to follow his gaze and felt her heart thud hard in her chest at the sight that awaited her. Tristan was lying on a pallet similar to the one she must be on only a few feet away and had a mound of blankets on top of him. His normally olive complexion was a ghostly white and if it weren't for the very subtle rising and lowering of his chest, Breck would have thought he was dead. She had never wanted to see him in a state such as this and the image brought tears to her eyes.

"He lives – but barely so." Arthur explained as they both looked at Tristan. "He woke very briefly the morn after the battle but was not coherent. His fate is…" Arthur struggled for the right word, shooting Breck a wary look now. "…uncertain." He finally concluded.

Breck nodded her understand and tried to gulp past the lump that had formed in her throat as she reached her right arm to him, using what little of the energy that she had left to do so. Arthur saw her intention and hurried to help her, gently supporting her arm and then moving some of Tristan's blankets out of the way until her hand was wrapping tightly around his own. She could feel the burning heat of his body underneath the blankets and she wanted to cry at the knowledge of how bad of condition he was in, but could not find the power to do so. Already her body was beginning to feel weary again and she struggled to keep her eyes open, trying to stay awake so that she might talk to Arthur more or even begin trying to rouse Tristan.

"Breck, sleep." Arthur said gently, one of his hands gently brushing over her forehead.

"Tell…tell him…" Breck tried to say, her eyes drooping again as her weakened state began to leave her delirious again. "I live." She urged. "Tell Tristan…tell…"

Arthur shushed her and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I will, I swear. Sleep now. We will speak more when you awake."

She stared at Tristan for a moment longer before her eyes slid closed again at Arthur's command, the recovering woman falling back asleep with her hand still clutching tightly to Tristan's.

* * *

The brightness of the sun blinded her when she awoke the next afternoon and she winced when her eyes opened again, squinting against the light because she was still too weak to lift her hand and shield her own eyes. One of her hands was still resting over Tristan's and she took a deep breath before turning her head to look over at him again. Breck was a bit surprised when she saw that Guinevere was present and that she and another old Woad woman (she must be in the Woad camp) were tending to the Sarmatian's wounds. The blankets had been stripped off of him and though his body trembled in the cool air around them, it appeared that he had not woken. A large bandage was wrapped around his waist and she knew exactly what it concealed from her searching eyes – the wound that may or may not be sending him to his death.

Guinevere glanced over in her direction and then did a double-take once she saw that Breck was awake and alert. She straightened up and grinned, leaving Tristan's side so that she could come over to her. "You are awake." She said, pressing a hand against her forehead. "And your fever has broken. How do you feel, friend?" The woman asked.

Breck hadn't even been aware that she'd had a fever at some point, but this did not surprise her. "Tired." She responded with a heavy sigh. It wasn't as much of a struggle to speak now but her voice was still scratchy and rough sounding. "And hungry."

"We thought as much." Guinevere said with a nod. "Arthur should return shortly with food. Would you like water?" When Breck gave a tiny nod, Guinevere reached over for the canister that Arthur had abandoned the night before and then helped Breck lift her head so that she could get a few generous gulps down. "Tristan's condition has shown small signs of improvement." The Woad updated her, giving Breck a moment to breathe before offering her more water. "He does not burn as hot and the infection in his wound has abated some."

It was a relief to hear that Tristan was beginning to show signs of progress and Breck managed another small nod of gratitude. "The others?" She asked roughly.

"All were wounded but all survive." The Woad answered with a nod. "They returned to the fort a few days past to begin clearing the battlefield." She paused and then set the water canister down, reaching for a wet cloth instead to clean Breck's face. "You and Tristan gave Arthur quite a fright." She said gently. "As well as the men and myself – my father nearly resorted to beating the men away with his staff so you pair may recover in peace, they were hovering so closely. They will be overjoyed to learn of your recovery, just as I was." Then she glanced at Tristan. "I only hope your man will overcome his injuries now."

Breck turned her head to look at him again, using the little strength that she had to tighten the hold she had on his hand even further. It was hard to know if she had dreamt the meeting with her parents in her comatose state or she had been allowed a brief glimpse into heaven and actually spoken to them, but their words forced their way back through the haze that lingered in the edges of Breck's mind, regardless if she had made them up or not, and rang clearly within her ears again. _Only you shall be able to bring him back_, Kenrick's voice echoed in her head. But how? How could she help him when she could barely move her own body?

Guinevere looked up as footsteps approached and Breck followed her gaze, watching when Arthur returned with a steaming bowl and a tray of bread and cheese. He offered a smile when he saw that Breck was awake again and then came to her side, setting the food down next to her. The scent of the food wafted up into her nose and Breck was overcome with hunger, her thoughts turning away from Tristan for the moment as Arthur reached over to brush hair back from her face again. "When did you wake?" He asked.

"A few moments ago." Guinevere answered for her. "She drank water and she is hungry."

Arthur nodded and Breck watched as he reached for one of Guinevere's hands, bringing it up to his lips so he could kiss it. A look was shared between the two of them and he gave her a grateful nod before releasing her and then turning his attention back to Breck. Guinevere went back to Tristan's side then and began wiping at his face, giving Breck and Arthur a bit of privacy as the Roman slid his hands under her shoulders and then very gently began to lift her up into a sitting position. Breck hissed, gritting her teeth against the pain this move caused – she was not only sore from her injuries but also from having laid in the same position for days on end. Her body protested against the movements and Arthur looked at her apologetically when she had to release Tristan and grip onto him tightly, her fingers digging into his arms as she tried to fight through the pain.

"My apologies." He said one he had her sitting up, keeping a firm hand behind her back to keep her steady. "But it would be a travesty for you to survive this war only to die by drowning in stew."

On any other day she would have laughed at his comment, but instead Breck merely nodded and took a steadying breath, a dull throb resonating throughout all of her wounds now that she had moved. Arthur began to help her eat and with each spoonful of stew or bite of bread, Breck was beginning to feel some strength returning into her limbs. The blankets that covered her legs concealed any injuries to her lower body but she could feel the number of bandages that adorned her legs and arms. The clothes and armor that she had been wearing during the battle were discarded to the left and she was not surprised to see that both were decorated with a significant amount of blood – the bottom half of the tunic she had been wearing was completely soaked with her own blood. She could spy Tristan's effects next to her own; his clothes and armor looked to be in as poor of a state as hers.

"Better?" Arthur asked once she had finished eating the stew.

"Aye." She said with a nod. "What happened?" She finally asked, her voice sounding a little clearer now.

"Once Cerdic was dead, any remaining Saxons fled in retreat. I do not believe they made it far, however – they were chased down by the Woads." He said, placing the empty bowl of stew off to the side before offering some more bread to her. She shook her head so he placed the tray back down and instead grabbed for the water at her side. "Merlin offered the care of his healers to help with yours and Tristan's injuries. I will forever be indebted to him for his aid in your recovery." He finished explaining before holding the water up to her. "Drink."

Breck did as she was told and was glad to be feeling a bit like her normal self again. It would be a long while before she was completely healed. Over Arthur's shoulder she could see that many of the Woads were nosily looking on and watching the interaction between her and Arthur. A good number of them began bowing their heads to her out of respect or raising a hand in a wave when she made eye-contact with them and she nodded in return. It was strange to see the change in the normally cold, distant people and even stranger that Arthur could now walk freely amongst them without fearing for his life. "What now?" She asked, eyeing the Woads for another moment before looking to Arthur for his response.

"As soon as you and Tristan," he cast a quick glance at his scout, "are able enough, we relocate back to Hadrian's Wall. Then..." He shrugged and sighed. "We continue living."

Breck nodded her understanding. The old Woad woman that had been working on Tristan had finished with her task and was gathering up her things to leave, which Breck was glad for. She was feeling tired again and was ready to have a bit of peace and quiet. "What of Rome?" She asked as the Woad woman stood and strode away.

Arthur paused and shared a secretive, knowing look with Guinevere. The woman in question was watching them with interested eyes and Breck thought she saw a small smile on the corner of her mouth. "I shall not return to Rome." Arthur said, meeting Breck's gaze again. "Circumstances have…changed. My home is here now."

She wanted to question him further on it but simply didn't have the mental capacity to hold much more conversation at the moment. Her eyes turned back down to Tristan and she sighed before reaching for Arthur's hand. "Take me to him." She requested gently.

"Breck, you should not –"

"Arthur, she will not die if moved two feet." Guinevere said quickly as she came over to join them, cutting off the man's protest. Arthur snapped his mouth shut and Breck raised her eyebrows, holding back the witty remark that she would have said if she'd had the energy to face the argument that Arthur would have started in response. "Here, careful now." Guinevere said.

Together, Arthur and Guinevere managed to get Breck to her feet. The woman hissed at first but then sighed in relief at not being on her back for the first time in days. Every bone in her body felt as though it needed to be popped and readjusted, and though it was difficult to walk because she had been indisposed for so long, the pain felt more like a good-hurt as she stretched out her limbs and got her blood flowing again. They rounded Tristan's unconscious form and then helped her to lie down again, depositing her on her good side gently so that she could face Tristan and rest against him. Breck already felt content being closer to him and stowed away under one of his blankets, resting her head next to his on his pillow.

Guinevere whispered something Arthur that Breck couldn't hear, said her goodbyes, and then left with a small smile. Arthur kneeled down next to her for a moment before leaning over to kiss her hair. "We will come to check you in a few hours time." He said. "Rest if you can."

Breck nodded and offered him a small smile before directing her attention to Tristan again, listening as Arthur's footsteps retreated and then disappeared altogether. Once everything was silent and she was alone with Tristan, she scooted closer with a wince at the pain the move caused her and then pressed her lips against his pasty cheek. He was still warm but he looked less ghostly then he had the previous night. She moved one hand to search for his amongst the masses of blankets and then clasped it tightly within her own, settling against him as she tried to suppress the emotion that was welling up within her again. How could she save him? What was she supposed to do?

"I love you." She finally whispered to him, watching him closely for a moment and hoping that his eyes would open at any moment. They did not. "Come back to me, Tristan. Please – end my suffering and return to me."

* * *

**A/N: Hi guys! Hate me? Love me? Still thinking about killing me? I hope not!**

**A few more chapters left and then we've reached the end of our story. I'm super sad to see it coming to an end but it has been so fun writing this. Who woulda thunk that this thing would turn into such an epic tale? The longest story I've ever written by far! **


	38. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: I own nothing related to King Arthur.**

* * *

By the next afternoon, Tristan still had not shown any signs of waking. His fever had continued to slowly diminish, but his eyes remained shut and he remained unresponsive to both her pleading words and the pokes and prods of the Woad healer. Breck would have been happy to stay by his side and watch over him but at the insistence of Guinevere, finally allowed the woman to help her to a nearby pond so she could bathe for the first time in days (or weeks, Breck couldn't really remember).

Guinevere had tried to convince Breck to let her help with her bath as well, but the redhead had been persistent that she could handle the task on her own. Even if she was still recovering from battle wounds, Breck had never been fond of being coddled and standing naked in front of Guinevere wasn't something she particularly wished to do. The healer had given strict instructions not to get any of her injuries or bandages wet, so once Guinevere had resigned to the fact that Breck wasn't going to budge in her resistance, she went to stand guard nearby while Breck slowly undressed and sat by the edge of the pond to clean herself up.

It was much easier to see the extent of the damage the war had inflicted on her body once she was carefully cleaning her skin – more cuts and gashes then she could count adorned her legs and arms, a few burn marks decorated her forearms from jumping through the wall of fire during the battle, and the arrow wound from the battle at the frozen lake was now accompanied by a stab wound. A peak at her own face in the water's reflection made her grimace. Her nose had been broken and reset and the bruising around it had faded to an ugly yellow. Her bottom lip had been busted open and was swollen and a long cut stretched across the right side of her neck. The only serious injury appeared to be the deep stab wound she's received from Cerdic and when she took a peek under the tightly wound bandage that covered it, she saw that she had been stitched up and slathered with a gooey salve.

It was the worst condition she'd ever been in by far, but she was at least beginning to feel more like herself after a lot of rest and steady intake of sustenance. Now the only thing that Breck needed was for Tristan to open his eyes and rejoin reality.

"Breck? Are you well?" Guinevere called to her when Breck had not reappeared for almost a half hour.

"Aye." She responded, reaching for the loose fitting clothes she'd been provided with and tugging them back on with slow, careful movements. Her hair swung into her view and she pulled a face, plucking at one of the long strands. Her red curls were covered in dirt, grime, and dried blood and she could see sections here and there that had been singed by the firewall. Breck glanced down at the pond, trying to contemplate if she could wash her hair alone, but knew there would be no way to clean it herself that wouldn't inflict mass amounts of pain on her wounds. "I do require help with my hair." Breck admitted once she was fully dressed.

Guinevere came back over and studied Breck's dirty, bloody hair for a second. She pulled a bit of a face and then nodded, helping the healing woman onto her back slowly until she could lay back and dunk her hair into the water. Breck immediately released a sigh of contentment at the temperature of the cool water on her scalp and closed her eyes as Guinevere worked some soap through her curly locks. "Tough as nails, you are." Guinevere said conversationally, making Breck open her eyes to look up at her. "I have witnessed men show more suffering over lesser wounds."

"Many of my years were spent roaming the wild." Breck explained. "One must acquire thicker skin to survive."

Guinevere 'hmph'ed and then cocked her head to the side curiously. "And what shall you do now?"

That was a very good question – what _would _Breck do now?

For the majority of her life she had been haunted by her enemy. But now that she was rid of him, she felt an almost frightening sense of freedom. Breck was now able to go anywhere she wished, do whatever it was she wanted, and no longer have to worry about the terrible things Cerdic may be unleashing upon the innocents of the world. For the first time in sixteen years, there was no enemy that hung over her head to dictate her decisions. If she wished to visit Ireland, she could. If she wanted to travel to Sarmatia with Tristan, there would be nothing to stop them. There had never been so many paths laid before her to choose from and it was almost overwhelming

The only thing she _was _certain of was the fact that Tristan would be apart of whatever path she chose…just as soon as he awoke and recovered from his injuries.

"I do not know." She finally answered Guinevere with a long sigh. "There are so many possibilities now that Cerdic is gone."

"Yes, there are." Guinevere agreed. "Regardless, you and your man always have a home here." She added earnestly. "You have only friends in Briton and no one would ever turn the pair of you away, especially not Arthur."

Breck flashed the woman a grateful smile before letting it melt into a smirk at the mention of her life-long friend. Something had been brewing between Arthur and Guinevere ever since they met and Breck was curious to know what had developed between them. "Speaking of Arthur, it appears things have _progressed_." She prompted. "What do you think of him?"

"He is a good man." Guinevere said as she turned her eyes away quickly. She almost sounded defensive but when she met Breck's gaze again, she too had a small, challenging smile on her face. "I shall ask you to pry no further." She finished with a pointed look, throwing the words Breck had used when Guinevere herself had pried about Tristan right back at her.

"Fair enough." Breck conceded with a laugh.

Guinevere finished with her hair then and rung out the extra moisture before placing her hands under her shoulders. "Up we go." She said, helping the wincing woman into a sitting position again. "Better?"

Her body was throbbing a little at the excessive movements from her bath, but it was nice to feel clean again. It was also nice not to have the blood of nameless Saxons on her person anymore – it felt as though she had finally washed away any memory of her enemy and she could now officially move on. "Much. My thanks, friend." Breck said before beginning to haul herself to her feet. Guinevere moved to help her and Breck resisted the urge to push her away, begrudgingly accepting the woman's hand when she offered it.

"Do you refuse all help or mine only?" Guinevere asked with a quirked brow, letting Breck lean on her as they began to make their way back to her and Tristan's temporary housing.

"I mean no offense." Breck said with a guilty expression. "This is my demeanor concerning most people. Certainly Arthur warned you of my stubbornness."

"He may have mentioned it." She said, looking amused.

The Woad camp seemed a little more empty then usual as they traveled through the thick trees and it confused Breck for a moment until she remembered that many had probably perished in the battle. The ones that did remain, however, were mostly in great spirits and seemed at ease in their daily routine. The Woads were not unlike the townsfolk back at Hadrian's Wall – the women chased after their young children, the men went about their duties, and teenagers helped their parents with their chores or practiced with weapons. When they passed by a group of children, all of them fell silent and watched them pass with wide eyes before immediately breaking into whispers that Breck could not understand. She cast a curious glance behind her before turning her gaze on Guinevere for answers.

"They are awed by you." The Woad said with a smirk. "The Great Celt-Saxon who avenged her family and rid the world of the evil Cerdic." She added dramatically.

"I was not alone in my endeavors." Breck responded with a blush, a bit flattered by the attention.

"And Arthur receives similar attention from my people now." Guinevere assured her. "Stories will be told of the pair of you for many, many years."

Just as Guinevere mentioned the man, Breck spotted Arthur sitting off to the side with Merlin. They were by themselves and conversing quietly with each other and it was almost strange to see that neither seemed angry or on guard in any way. She had to marvel at the difference between them now – at one point, Arthur had wanted Merlin's head on a silver platter. Now they seemed to be comrades, maybe even friends, as they sat and spoke privately.

"One moment." Breck said, making Guinevere halt. "I wish to speak with your father."

Guinevere nodded and then helped her in Merlin's direction instead. She now understood why the Woads that she made eye-contact nodded to her out of respect or whispered to each other excitedly as she passed and Breck offered polite smiles in return. It would take a while to grow accustomed to this sort of attention but she was at least glad that the Woads no longer regarded her untrustingly as they had before. Eventually, when the two men spotted them approaching, they ceased whatever they were speaking about and stood to greet them. Arthur had a wide smile on his face and Merlin inclined his head to her, looking pleased to see her on her feet again.

"Breck, your health is returning." Merlin said with a small smile on his face. "You look well."

"I look a mess, but my thanks." She said with a short laugh. "I came to offer my gratitude for your services to myself and Tristan." Breck revealed, offering him a small. "Without your healers, I fear our fates would have been vastly different. I thank you."

Merlin gave her a short, humble bow in answer and then shot her a curious look as he straightened up again. "And how fares your man?"

"He has yet to wake." Breck answered solemnly.

"Patience." Merlin suggested with a reassuring tone to his airy voice. "I feel his presence still. He will awake when he sees fit."

There was a mysterious air that surrounded his words but Breck did not question him on it nor dwell on the meaning behind his statements. Merlin had been strange from the very first time she had met him and had remained steadfast in his weirdness ever since, so his odd demeanor no longer fazed her. Breck instead turned her focus to Arthur when he spoke. "Merlin and I were discussing plans for the future of Hadrian's Wall." He said conversationally. "I believe it is agreed our alliance may prove to be quite beneficial for all involved." He said with a small smirk on the corner of his lips. "And, most importantly, beneficial for the future of Briton."

"Yes, indeed." Merlin agreed. "The union of our people brings a brighter future for us all."

"Union?" Breck asked in surprised.

"The doors to Hadrian's Wall have been opened to the Woads." Arthur informed her. "Any who wish to live within the fort are welcome to just as any of our people are free to settle outside the borders of the Wall. The Woads have offered their protection should we wish to expand our borders."

"This offer is very generous from both parties." Breck said in approval over the change this alliance was bringing. The people of Hadrian's Wall would breathe much easier without the threat of the Woads hanging over them and the Woads would have much more access to supplies and shelter should they require it. "I am pleased to hear the agreement."

"Just I presumed you would be. After all, this is of your doing." Arthur said in response before moving to gently take her arm out of Guinevere's. "I wish to speak to you alone. Come – walk with me."

They said their goodbyes to Merlin and Guinevere (she did _not _miss the look that Arthur shared with the Woad woman before the left) and then continued on towards where Tristan was still resting. Breck looped her arm through Arthur's and leaned on him for support, smiling and nodding to Woads as they passed by before casting a look up at Arthur. The half-Roman seemed at ease, content, and it appeared that a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Now that his men were free and Cerdic was gone, a lot of the issues plaguing him had taken their leave. She liked seeing him in this more relaxed state rather then his constant tense demeanor.

"I am happy to see you have resolved your issues with Merlin." She told him conversationally.

"It would have been impossible not to offer my comradery." He said with a shrug. "His people helped us win our fight. And had you not made it to his healers so quickly, you and Tristan would have perished – I owe him greatly for the services he has done me."

"_And_ there is the matter of Guinevere." She added nonchalantly.

Arthur looked down at her quickly with a quirked eyebrow, which she met with a look that dared him to deny her statement, before he smirked and shook his head with an expression of admittance on his face. "Yes, there is Guinevere." He agreed.

"Do you wish to enlighten me?" Breck pried.

"What might I say that you do not already suspect?" Arthur retorted knowingly. When she merely pursed her lips and nodded in response, he continued speaking but changed the topic. "I know not what your plan may be now, old friend, but l speak truthfully when I say my hope is that you choose Hadrian's Wall as your permanent residence. A new journey awaits us all and I wish to embark on it with your friendship and support."

"Arthur, you are family and you always have been. You have my support for the remainder of our days." She reminded him.

"This I know." Arthur said quickly. He paused and glanced around for a moment to see if any eavesdroppers were nearby. When he spoke again his voice was hushed so that his words were only loud enough for her to hear. "Merlin extends another offer to me." He revealed, pulling her to a stop.

"What?" She asked curiously.

Arthur was silent for a beat. "He wishes to make me King of Briton."

Breck stared at him, completely stunned for a moment and at a loss of what to say. Arthur? King of _Briton_? "Arthur…" She said in astonishment.

He nodded. "I know." He responded. "The commitment is a large one and not to be taken lightly."

"Have you given an answer as of yet?" Breck asked him.

Arthur shook his head and pulled her along again, directing her towards the familiar, moss covered enclosure that she and Tristan had been occupying. "No." He said. "I asked he allow me time to think on it." He looked down at her again and raised his eyebrows. "What thinks you on this matter?"

If she were to be honest, there was no other better suited for the job then Arthur as far as Breck was concerned. Arthur was a skilled fighter, he had a good heart, and the people were already loyal to him. He was not one that was corrupted by greed or power and she knew he would rule the people justly. But at the same time, this was a very monumental decision that had to be made. He needed to take the time to consider it from every angle before agreeing to anything. "I believe none are more capable of the position then you." She said truthfully. "But think on it and be certain of your path before answering Merlin."

Arthur nodded and then shot her an almost mischievous smirk. "Would you like to be appointed a high ranking official? Perhaps be on my war council?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow, a half-teasing tone to his voice.

"My thanks for the kind offer, _my king_." Arthur blanched a bit at the term, looking almost nervous at the title she teased him with. "But no. I have had my fill of war, I am afraid." She admitted as they approached the flap that separated her from her unconscious Sarmatian. She pushed the cloth barrier out of the way and eyed Tristan's still form, frowning as her uneasiness began to return at seeing him so motionless. "Besides, Tristan will breathe easier knowing he no longer need chase me from battlefield to battlefield." Breck said with a sigh.

Arthur peeked in and then offered her a comforting smile, pressing a quick kiss to her hair. "Tristan will wake soon." He said encouragingly.

"That is my hope." Breck said before patting the much larger, supportive hand that kept her steady and then slipping her arm out from his. "Go and be with your woman. I wish to tend to Tristan alone." She urged. "I will alert you should his condition change."

Arthur nodded and she spared him one last smile before ducking into the tent-like structure and closing the flap securely behind her, effectively concealing her and Tristan from the rest of the world.

The healer must have been in to check on him because the wash basin by his head was filled with new water and the bandage around his waist seemed to have been tampered with. Breck frowned at the sight that he presented and shuffled over to sit down next to him, a hand immediately resting over his chest to feel the steady, albeit slow, beat of his heart. It was unsettling to see him so motionless but she tried valiantly to push her fears away. Anyone else would have perished from the wounds Tristan suffered from but he was still fighting for his survival – if nothing else, she had to feel somewhat encouraged with that fact.

Breck reached for one of the clean rags by the basin and soaked it before gently using it to clean his face, whispering soothing words to him as she worked to clean him up a bit. Tristan was going to be fine. He was going to live and then they were going to spend the rest of their days loving one another. Breck just had to be patient and not lose hope that he would return to her.

* * *

For the second time in a matter of days, Breck awoke to the sound of chirping crickets and the crackling fire Arthur had come to make before they both turned in for the night. The stillness of the camp outside of their enclosure, plus the glimpses of the moon that she could see through the moss overhead when she turned her eyes upward, let her know that it was fairly late at night and she blinked groggily, confused as to why she had woken at such a strange hour. She yawned and turned her head to settle back into the pillow she was sharing with Tristan, intent on going back to sleep, when she realized that the hand she had been clutching to was now returning her grasp.

With a start Breck's eyes popped open again and she sat up sharply, looking down at Tristan and then smiling widely when she saw that, for the first time in days, his eyes were open and he was gazing steadily at her.

"Tristan!" She said at once, momentarily forgetting about both of their injuries and leaning down to press kiss after kiss to any portion of his face that she could reach. "You are awake!" She added, beyond happy to be looking into his amber-flaked orbs again. He winced when she pressed into him a little too hard and she immediately flushed, backing off a bit. "Forgive me."

"I need water." He said with a rough voice.

Breck nodded and reached for the canteen that was nearby, opening the lid and then helping him hold his head up so she could pour some into his mouth. His eyes slid closed and he sighed in relief as he drank and she could not resist pushing his hair back from his face affectionately. She had a million things she wanted to say to him, wanted to tell him what had happened in the battle and inform him of her vision she'd had of her parents, but held her tongue while he drank his fill. She knew all too well how tired he must be and did her best not to bombard him with words when he was just now coming out of his comatose state.

So when he finished drinking and opened his eyes to look at her again, Breck only leaned in and placed a gentle kiss against his lips, beyond happy that she was able to do so again and a bit surprised when he was able to return it.

"I love you, you stubborn, foolish man." Breck said with a small smile, her heart thumping hard in her chest when he slowly raised a hand to touch her cheek. She leaned into his touch and rested her hand over his, feeling like she may burst from happiness at any moment.

"I love you." He responded slowly. Then his brows furrowed a bit. "Are you…hurt?" He managed out.

"Aye, I was." Breck admitted. "But do not worry. I am healing."

He gave a tiny nod. "The men? Cerdic?"

Breck was a little surprised to see how alert Tristan actually was, since she herself had been pretty delirious upon first regaining consciousness, but she supposed that perhaps it was because he had gotten more rest and had more time to heal before waking up. "The men are well." She revealed. "And Cerdic is dead. Arthur and I finished him."

He seemed satisfied to hear this. "I am...proud." He said.

She grinned at his words, glad that he was pleased with her. "And I am happy you live." Breck responded, running a hand over his face. Then she let her smile drop into a scowl and pointed a finger in his face threateningly. "Do such a thing again and I shall kill you myself."

Tristan cracked a half-hearted smirk and she shook her head before settling down next to him again when his eyes began to droop shut. He turned his head to face her with a long sigh and she smiled as she reached for his hand again, lacing her fingers with his. Tristan was _alive_. And he was going to be _fine_. _Thank you, God_, she said in her head over and over as she gazed happily at Tristan's handsome features.

"Breck…" He started to say, fighting to stay awake and keep his eyes open.

She shushed him and pressed one more quick kiss to his lips. "Sleep, Tristan. I will be here when you wake in the morn."

"Promise?"

Breck grinned and nodded. "I promise. Then I shall reveal to you anything you wish to know."

Tristan gave another small nod and finally let sleep consume him.

Breck felt a complete sense of contentment spread through her veins as his breathing evened out and he fell into a peaceful looking slumber. There were not enough thanks or expressions of gratitude in the world that she could offer to God in that moment to truly convey how happy and thankful she was that she had not been robbed of Tristan. Breck had lost many people that she had cared for throughout the span of her life, but the man she loved lived and now she had her entire life to be with him. God had finally rewarded her for all of the hardships she'd endured and she was not going to waste one moment of the time she had with her Sarmatian knight. Her earlier trepidations over marriage and a family of her own seemed to vanish in that instant and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted to marry Tristan and bear his children. She wanted to have a family with him and give their children a life that they had never had – one filled with love and happiness and away from the turmoil of war, just as Emer had promised her upon their meeting.

For the first time in her twenty years of living, she could say that she finally felt completely at peace. Tristan lived, her friends lived, there was no fear of the people around her, there was no evil enemy that wished her dead, and she had finally found support and friendship amongst people that loved and cherished her.

Breck had _finally_ found her place in life.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out! This chapter gave me a world of trouble. Writer's block like you wouldn't believe! My apologies if this was a totally weak chapter!**

**Next chapter is the epilogue! We have reached the end!**


	39. Epilogue

**I own nothing related to King Athur.**

* * *

_About four years later…_

"One, two, five – good."

The two Woad boys straightened up and turned to face her, dropping their defensive poses and letting their wooden swords rest at their sides. Breck had been circling her two students with one hand clutching loosely to the handle of her own wooden weapon before she came to a halt in front of them them.

"Remember, you must observe the finer details in your opponent." She said. Then she moved to stand next to the boy on the right and motioned for one across from her to ready himself. Once he did, she continued. "For example –" Breck started to explain, eyeing him before making a quick lunge. The boy misjudged the direction she was going and earned himself a whack on the shoulder. " – had you watched the movement of my shoulder as opposed to the bend of my knee, you could have saved yourself the bruising." She finished as the boy rubbed his shoulder.

Another pair of her students began to spar as she gave the first two a break and she circled them in a similar fashion, watching them carefully and giving tips or instructions when needed.

Ever since Breck and Tristan had settled permanently at Hadrian's Wall, this had been her job. Arthur had wasted no time in appointing her as the head weapons-trainer to the young boys in town on a permanent basis and seeing as Breck had never been cut out for 'womanly duties', she had jumped at the opportunity. This was her area of expertise and she loved watching the transformation of her students – she could not have asked for a better profession. Tristan would join her in her lessons every now and again to offer his own advice, but normally the men were so preoccupied with their own duties that it was a rare occasion when he did make an appearance; it was probably for the better, seeing as half of the people in town were still a bit wary of the Sarmatian.

An all-too-recognizable screech overhead drew her attention from the spar taking place and Breck turned her eyes up to the sky quickly, smiling when she saw the familiar hawk that Tristan had always kept nearby. He had been gone for two days now on a scouting mission for Arthur and if his bird had returned, then that meant he had as well and relief immediately flooded through her. Breck was never too happy whenever he was gone for long periods of time but it was at least a comfort to know that he now had a small party that accompanied him on trips like these. Regardless of the extra protection, Breck would much rather have him home and safe rather then scouring the lands around them for any impending threats and had been eagerly awaiting his return.

"That is all for this day, lads." Breck said quickly, making the two boys finish their spar. "We will resume in two days time. Remember our lesson and practice at home once you have finished your chores." She instructed before shooting a pointed look at one of the students who had a bit of a temper on him from time to time. "And _no _fighting outside of the arena, understood?"

"Yes, Lady Breck." They all said, almost in unison, before beginning to filter out.

As soon as her students were gone and the training arena was in order again, Breck headed out towards Vanora and Bors' home to make a quick stop before she would then continue on to the house she shared with Tristan. He would more then likely be going to see Arthur first to update him on any findings, so she decided to await his arrival at home rather then searching him out and interrupting their meeting.

Breck smiled and waved to people she knew as she made her way through the fort. Life had been fairly peaceful at Hadrian's Wall since the Saxons had been dealt with – Arthur was King now and married to Guinevere, the Sarmatians had all chosen to settle at Hadrian's Wall to continue serving under their commander rather then returning home, and the fort was thriving with life as more and more people (including the Woads) came to live on the lands of the great King Arthur. Word of their victorious battle had of course spread to lands near and far, which brought the threat of new enemies that wished to thwart the great army that resided in Briton, but their peaceful existence had yet to be truly compromised.

As for she and Tristan? Once they had recovered completely from the Battle of Badon Hill, they had embarked on their own journey to her old home in Ireland. They had gone to the site of her father's remains, paid homage to his memory, and then travelled south to have a short visit with the aged Father Padraig before eventually returning to Hadrian's Wall. As soon as they were home again, the two of them were promptly married by Merlin with only their closest friends present to witness the ceremony. They had been living in their home at the Wall ever since.

As was usually the case, the nearer she got to Vanora and Bors' home (which was just down the way from her and Tristan's home) the louder she could hear the sounds of scuffling or playing children. She shook her head with an amused smirk and waved at an exhausted looking Bors as she approached. The man was sitting on the ground with children running all about him and panting, seeming as though he may keel over at any moment but also looking relieved to see her at the same time.

"Bloody runts…they should be fortunate I like them." He panted, eyeing the gaggle of children warily. He even flinched a bit when one of his younger boys pretended he was going to punch his father, before scowling as the boy ran away giggling with mad delight. "These children shall be the death o' me someday."

"Then perhaps you should stop having them." She advised before reaching a hand down to help haul the large man to his feet.

The man grumbled at her words once he was standing again and then he wagged his finger at her disapprovingly. "Easy now." Bors said in warning, eyeing the bump of her stomach that was just beginning to hint at the life that grew inside. "Not just yourself you be takin' care of you know. Tristan would be none too pleased…"

Breck smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, but I suffer enough coddling from Tristan and Arthur, friend." She told him before shrugging. "What my husband is unaware of shall do him no harm."

"He'd ring your neck if he learned of the things you get up to in his absence." Bors retorted.

"I know not what you speak of…" She said innocently, her eyes turning away to search for a familiar, messy mop of dark hair amongst the gang of happily playing children. Some of them waved enthusiastically to her and she returned the gesture, patting the ones that came to hug her on the head affectionately in greeting.

"Aye?" Bors asked with a smirk. "Allow me to refresh your memory – do you recall horseback riding with Galahad? Helping Jols in the stables? Chasing around children nonstop?"

"I never pegged you a snitch." Breck said with a good-natured glare, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I know my limits, Bors. If you have forgotten, this is _not_ my first child."

"Who could forget tha'?" Bors snorted disbelievingly. "That son o' yours is a hellion. How the fort still stands, I do not know."

"He learned from _your _children." She said with a laugh before finally spotting her young son amongst Bors' offspring. "Kenrick! Come here, little one!"

Kenrick, who was just three, lifted his head as the sound of her voice reached his ears. He had been in the middle of playing some form of stone throwing game with Eleven and Twelve in the field that separated her home from Bors', and tossed the stones carelessly to the side before coming barreling towards her excitedly. As soon as he was close enough he wrapped his arms around her legs excitedly, nearly bowling her over. "Ma!" He said excitedly, squeezing her legs in a tight hug.

"Hello, my darling." She said with a grin, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. "Was your day with Uncle Bors fun?" He nodded his head vigorously and she smiled down at him for another moment before shooting Bors a grateful look. "My thanks for babysitting."

"You are welcome." Bors said, ruffling Kenrick's hair. "You have done so for us plenty o' times. Tis the least I can do."

"We take our leave now, but we should sup together on the morrow." She suggested.

Bors nodded his agreement but then took off to chase after one of his children a moment later, shouting at the top of his lungs as he did so because they had just crashed one of the wheelbarrows into the wall of the house. Breck grimaced at the loud shout and then looked down to Kenrick warily, making him giggle at her dramatic expression. Then she grabbed his much smaller hand in his and began to lead him away.

There was absolutely no doubting that Tristan was Kenrick's father when looking at the child. The young boy had olive toned skin, dark messy hair, and his facial features resembled the Sarmatian so closely that he looked like a replica of Tristan, only miniature. The only attributes he'd obtained from her appeared to be in his personality – Kenrick could be incredibly stubborn when he wanted to and had an all-too-familiar tenacious streak in him. It wasn't uncommon to find him running headfirst into some form of danger without a second thought and he kept her and Tristan fairly busy on a daily basis. Tristan had been wary about sending him into the clutches of Bors' children at first out of fear that it would only fuel his recklessness, but once he saw how much energy they zapped out of one another, he embraced the idea completely. Kenrick would usually be exhausted at the end of the day from his rigorous playing, which left Breck and Tristan the opportunity to take advantage of their time alone once he was asleep.

"We go home?" Kenrick asked as they continued down the road to their quaint home.

"Aye, darling." She said with a nod. "Do you wish to know why?" He nodded vigorously in response, making his hair flop around on his head. "Your father will be home soon." Breck revealed with a small grin.

"Father!" Kenrick said excitedly, bouncing up and down and looking around quickly for any signs of Tristan. It was a well known fact that Kenrick absolutely worshipped the ground that his father walked on. "Where?" He asked eagerly.

"I would presume he speaks with Uncle Arthur. He will be home shortly." She explained to the excited child. "Be a good boy and help your mother prepare the house. Aye?"

Kenrick nodded and released her hand, taking off in a run for the house and leaving her in his wake. Breck laughed at his antics and then took a moment to admire the home she had made with Tristan as she approached. A warm, contented feeling filled her bones at the sight of the house, just as was always the case. She had loved the place ever since he had first shown her, and Breck could remember the first time Tristan had brought her here like it was yesterday…

* * *

_It had only taken a few days to get Tristan back on his feet again after he had finally regained his consciousness and since he was mobile and healing just fine, they had decided it was time to leave the Woad camp and head back to Hadrian's Wall. The town had been quickly repaired, the inhabitants of the fort had begun to filter back in, and one wouldn't even begin to think that there had ever been a war here in the first place if not for the lingering bloodstains on the former battlefield. The men were eagerly waiting to greet them at the gates and Bors was the first to pull each of them into a monstrous hug, a gesture which even Tristan begrudgingly accepted._

_Gawain was the next to pull her into a long hug. "I am delighted you and Tristan have returned. Please say you will join us for supper." He said once he had released her. _

"_I am sure I can manage." She said with a laugh. _

"_You _will _manage." Galahad corrected, scooping her up and giving her a tight hug. "I am so happy you and Tristan have recovered well." He said earnestly, kissing her cheek before pulling back. "Worried sick, I was."_

"_My thanks, dearest friend." Breck responded, kissing his cheek in return and then shooting him an affectionate look._

"_And what of me?" Lancelot asked as he stepped forward, holding his arms out with a wide grin on his face. "Do I not receive a hug as well?"_

"_I suppose…" She teased before pulling the charming man into a hug. Over his shoulder she could see Tristan and Arthur having a quick, private conversation and watched as the two men shook hands before they came to join their friends again. Gawain immediately stepped forward to give Tristan a brotherly pat on the back while Arthur came and rested a hand on Lancelot's shoulder._

"_Friends, allow her to breathe." He chastised with a small smile, pulling the Sarmatian away from Breck gently. "Leave them be for now - the two have business to attend to." He said. _

"_Business?" Breck asked, looking to Tristan curiously. _

_He smirked and then extended a hand towards her wordlessly. Breck slipped her hand into his trustingly, shooting a questioning look to the men as they tried to appear nonchalant, and let Tristan pull her away from their friends. At first she thought he was going to take her back to the knight's quarters for some unknown reason but she only frowned in further confusion as he took the road that led them in the direction of Vanora and Bors' home instead. _

"_Where do we go?" She finally asked him after a few moments of silence had passed between them. _

"_Be patient, woman." He retorted, quirking an eyebrow at her with an almost conspiratorial look in his eyes. _

_Eventually they made it past Vanora's home and continued down the road a little bit further. They were nearing the outskirts of town and, as far as she knew, there were not many townsfolk that lived on this road because it opened up to wide and unfamiliar planes of land stretching to the south. Breck was unfamiliar with the few inhabitants that did live in the area, so she had never felt the need to travel further then Vanora and Bors' house. Now that they were walking along the road, she could spy a small house at the very end of the path and she looked to him with searching eyes, trying to judge if this was where he was taking her. _

_Tristan finally came to a halt about thirty feet from the house and then looked down at her, his fingers still laced with hers as she inspected the area around them. _

_It was a beautiful location – the lands stretched on and on past the structure and she knew a prime view of the setting sun would be provided to the west of the house. A few rocking chairs were sitting by the front door along with some tools to work the surrounding land. The home was vacant but had a cozy feel to it and she turned questioning eyes up to Tristan, trying to suppress the smile that wanted to work its way onto her lips as she began to suspect this was the place Tristan had picked for them to live in together. "Is this…?" She asked slowly. _

"_The only request I have ever asked of Arthur." He said slowly, eyeing her for her reaction. "I asked that we have the home once the Saxons were finished. He readily agreed, of course." Breck felt a lump form in her throat and nodded her head, eyeing the house again with a happy smile. "I had Arthur send word to the men asking them to move our effects inside – it is ready to be occupied. Now it only needs a family." _

"_Confident I would say yes, were you?" She couldn't help but tease despite the sappy feelings that were beginning to swarm her. Though it was true that they had never discussed their future together, it was clear what Tristan's intentions were. He had gotten a house for them to live in and he wanted to start a family with her. The life with him that she had been dreaming of was finally coming true. Could this man be any better to her?_

_Tristan didn't appear effected by her teasing and faced her wholly, bringing a hand up to rest on her neck with a completely serious look on his face. The expression made her sober up and she watched him intently as she waited to hear what he might have say. "Breck…" He said firmly, holding her gaze steadily. "Be my wife." _

_She grinned and immediately threw her arms around his neck to kiss him, a move he gladly accepted. _

"_You answer yes?" He asked, pulling away just far enough to be able to meet her gaze. _

"_Aye." She said with a nod. "My answer is yes." _

* * *

Breck loved the house. It was her and Tristan's haven and had been since the day they had moved in.

Kenrick may not have been able to do much cleaning since he was so young, but he was scurrying about the house anyway and putting his toys back in their proper place when Breck finally made it into the house. The sight made her smile and she ruffled his hair as she walked past him to go and begin preparing a hot meal to greet her husband with.

Had anyone told her five years ago that she would someday be in love, married, and be raising a family in the home she shared with her husband, Breck would have laughed in their face for their stupidity. But as it was, her days of chasing Saxons and thriving off her hatred of her enemies were now things of the past and she had embraced her new life as a wife and mother. She was not naïve enough to believe that enemies would never again come for the Wall, but there was no use dwelling on such thoughts. Her biggest concerns now were Tristan, Kenrick, and the baby that grew inside her and making sure all were happy and taken care of.

To her surprise, the sound of approaching hooves reached her ears only some five minutes after beginning supper and she moved to peek out the window, grinning widely when she saw that Tristan was galloping up the road towards their home. He had arrived much sooner then she had thought he would, but she was not about to complain.

"Father?" Kenrick asked, his ears perking up as he too heard the rider's approach.

"Aye." Breck answered with nod.

That was all the young boy needed to hear before he was dashing out of the door to go and greet his father. Breck smiled at the boy's enthusiasm and wiped her hands on a towel before trailing after her son at a leisurely pace, butterflies filling her stomach at the prospect of seeing her husband again. Tristan already had the giggling boy flung over his shoulder by the time she made it out of the door and she shared a warm smile with her husband as he approached. There were few things in the world that were more heartwarming then seeing Tristan and Kenrick interact – considering the fact that Tristan had long believed himself incapable of leading a normal life before meeting her and had been positively _terrified_ at the prospect of being a father until the day that he had actually first held his son in his arms, he really was a magnificent father to Kenrick. He knew exactly when to be the father and when to be the friend and his love of his child was unmistakable.

"You return sooner then I thought." She said as he came to a stop in front of her and set Kenrick back down onto his feet.

He was handsome as ever with his messy hair, olive complexion, and broad, sturdy frame. The tendrils that he had let hang in his face for years had finally been braided back and tied off with a leather strap, letting his handsome features stand out more. There was more grey hair showing within his beard now and more scars adoring his body thanks to the war they'd fought in, but Breck liked it and thought it only made him even more appealing then he already was. The necklace that she had given to him four years ago still hung around his neck and she pressed a hand over the pendant once he was close enough, giving him a loving smile.

"I had no report for Arthur and I wished to see my family. I allowed Darius to handle business in my stead." He answered, referring to the Woad scout he often travelled with. One of his hands came up to rest over hers and the touch sent tingles up her arm.

"I am happy you are home." She said earnestly.

He nodded his agreement before he closed the gap between them and leaned down to give her a long kiss. As always, the warmth of his lips sent excitement through her veins and the scratch of his ever-present beard on her cheeks made her nerves tingle with awareness. His intoxicating scent filled her nose as pulled her close, his hands sliding dangerously low on her back, and Breck would have gladly let herself get caught up in the moment until Kenrick made a noise of disgust at their affectionate display. She snickered against her husband's lips and then pulled away from him gently.

"Later." She promised with a mischievous smirk, sliding her hands down his chest in a teasing manner before pulling away from him completely.

He shot her a heated look that only further fueled the fire already beginning to settle in her body and she was both disappointed and relieved when Kenrick began to tug Tristan into their home, breaking the moment between them as he began begging his father to tell him of his journey. Breck only lingered outside for a few more moments to go and present Lugh with a treat and a kiss to his nose (Azia had passed on a few years previous) before joining her two men in the house.

* * *

After a busy night of talking and playing and eating, Kenrick had finally started giving into his exhaustion from the eventful day and eventually had been carried off to his bedroom by Tristan. "He is asleep." Tristan said upon entering the common area again. "At last."

Breck smiled at his words and then paused in her task of cleaning their dishes from dinner, letting out a contented sigh and leaning back into his chest when Tristan wrapped his arms around her from behind. His hands immediately came to rest on her growing belly protectively and she felt the weight of his chin on her shoulder as he relaxed against her. This was what she looked forward to the most – quiet nights in the arms of the man that she was in love with.

"You are well?" He asked, his deep voice rumbling in her ear.

"Very." She answered as the warmth of his body washed over her, making her feel completely at ease. "As is your child."

"_Our _child." He corrected.

In the next moment he turned his head and began showering her neck with attention, his hands travelling from their spot on her baby-bump until they rested low on her hips. He pulled her back securely against him as he began to hungrily kiss her tender skin and her eyes slid closed, one of her hands moving to tangle in his messy hair as she bean to fall under his spell. After four years, Tristan still was able to turn her into a pile of mush with just one look or touch and she knew that she was never, _ever _going to grow tired of him or his touch.

Breck turned in his arms and dragged his lips down to hers to kiss him hungrily. He responded eagerly, a sound of approval emitting from low in his throat, and his hands slid down to her rear before he hauled her up into the air. Breck let out a short laugh at his manhandling, which drew a self-satisfied smirk from him, and wrapped her limbs around him for support before pressing a few loving kisses against his lips.

"I love you." She whispered to him, threading her fingers into his hair as he began to carry her to their bedroom.

"And I love you." He responded without hesitation before claiming her lips again.

Yes, her life has turned out quite differently then she had thought it would. Where Breck had once previously been unable to see a life beyond the threat of the long-dead Cerdic, now there was only hope and promise within her future. She had a loving husband that she could not live without, an exuberant child that she absolutely adored, and wonderful friends that always were there to support her no matter what. The peacefulness that she and Tristan and their loved ones basked in might not always remain untainted, but Breck would not bother herself with worries over nameless, future enemies.

No, Breck would only concern herself with the here and now – she would pass her days by teaching her students, enjoying the company of her friends, and spending time with her family, and would dedicate every night making love to Tristan, the husband that she loved with all of her heart.

And she could think of no better way to live the rest of the life that God had finally blessed her with.

_Fin_

**Well, my loverly readers, we have reached the end. I want to thank every last one of you that has reviewed, PMed me, favorited, or alerted this story. It was an absolute joy writing the tale of Breck and Tristan and I'm really going to miss it. It's been a long time since I finished a story and I forgot how bittersweet it really is. So thank you so much and I hope this is something you will all read again and again!**

**P.S. I'm considering writing a little one shot about Breck and Tristan's first time between the sheets. I don't normally do that, but I feel like I owe it in a way. If I do, it might be told from Tristan's perspective, just to get an idea of what's been going on in his head the whole time! I probably won't post it for the world to read, but PM me and let me know if this is something you would be interested in reading and I'll send it to you if I write it!**


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